Pluck A Duck

This may be a bit of a touchy subject so feel free to look away now!

NO DON'T - I was only kidding, it's not that bad. Well, maybe not for you.

The subject is hair. Oh, no, don't worry, I'm not talking about THAT hair.

I'm talking about chinny chin chin hair. On women.

Well, this image wouldn't have been photoshopped I'm sure

Now, a good 'friend of mine', since turning the big 40, has started to sprout a whisker or two.  Actually, I prefer to call them lady hairs cos let's face it, which female wants to openly admit they have whiskers.

Apparently, my 'friend' also does have a condition which is quite common to many woman and part of this does include an increase in facial hair.  When it was only one or two, that was fine.  However, it now appears they are ferociously sprouting at an alarming rate.

Which of course can prove socially embarrassing (if she gave a major toss).

In the interests of not scaring small children, or large children, or any one who has ever been a child, my 'friend' now carries tweezers every where she goes. 

No, NOT THIS, NOT EVER!

Actually I think this post could possibly be sponsored by Tweezerman considering the number of tweezers she has. 

Nothing like blinged up tweezers

In the bathroom. In her bag. In her toiletry bag. In her car.

"In her car?" I hear you ask???

Well, yes, in her car.  Because there are times, when parked or stationary, that the sun can just shine on that very spot that a big frigging hair is sprouting from a chin, and is the perfect opportunity to pluck the little bugger right out of the dermis (fancy name for skin).

Oh dear, that's not pretty

It's just that the times that this can happen may be in the car lines when waiting to pick up junior from school, or at traffic lights in the city, or even just as you are driving down your steep driveway into the garage.

And believe me, those moments ARE NOT to be wasted.

I am My 'friend' is now concerned that if she keeps plucking away, there will come a time when this will be her full time job.

But she has already made her offspring promise that when she is old and grey, they will still keep that chin plucked as best they can.

Hopefully not like this.

Hiliary, get out, you had your turn yesterday

Do you have a hairy chin?

Have one of those special 'friends'??

Remember who Pluck a Duck was???


Cheers


Lisa x0x

Oh Danny Boy!

Many of you will know (ok, two of you) about the Country Gypsy family's unfortunate happenings in trying to keep animals alive.

Let me say, We LOVE all animals (ok, I don't LOVE snakes and spiders) but the other types we love. Although I do also have to admit that I am a dog person, and not a cat person, but would never do anything to endanger the lives of them.

SO this story I am about to tell you did not in fact happen to us but rather to a friend of mine, who has given me permission to retell it.

And any cat lovers out there, I am just warning you that you may like to go away and look out for my next post!

The story goes...

One morning the lovely P was running a little late for work and was rushing the kids to climb in the car to get to school. Now P is a Mum of 5 (so she gets an award just for that) and she was taking the two youngest to school. Two of the older ones had already begun working life and the third was catching the bus to high school.

SO off the lovely P and her two gorgeous little ones went, driving through the lovely country lanes of the Southern Highlands.

Then, after a while, they could smell something.

The first choice was to blame the youngest family member, who swore black and blue that it was not indeed him and why did he always get picked on!

The smell continued to permeate through the car, but they drove on and got to work/school and on with their busy day.

On the way home that afternoon, the smell returned. This time, the lovely P suggested it may have been something some of the far4mers put on their crops, although she herself was not convinced of this.

As they got closer to home, the lovely P decided that it may indeed be some type of vermin that had ingeniously climbed in to the bonnet and perhaps and met their maker.

On arriving home, one of the elder children raced out to the car to tell P that her little kitten, Fluffy, was missing.

"Oh dear,' thought the lovely P  (well actually she didn't really think that but I am trying not to repeat what she actually thought).

Not wanting to open the bonnet herself, and trying to shield the family members from what was undoubtedly going to be a  horrific scene, she called on of her older sons and his mate to come out and open the bonnet.

Which they did.

To sounds of screaming and howling.

Yes, poor Fluffy had indeed climbed into the bonnet early that morning and life as he knew it had ended rather dramatically.

Now, this is a sad story and one which we hope does not happen again.

However, please read on.

So, amongst the tears from Fluffy's owner, and the female household members, to some rather outrageous comments from a couple of males in attendance, the decision was made there and then that Fluffy was worthy of a grand send off, even though her little life had been so short.

Preparations were made.

A hole was dug in the ground (by this time it was pelting with rain people so just try to use your imagination here). 

A bouquet of flowers were picked as a sign of remembrance.

An appropriate box had to be located and a warm blanket to keep little Fluffy safe of his journey to who knows where.

But unfortunately, not just any box would do. Because poor Fluffy had obviously passed on with shock rather than any other type of injury and rigor mortis had already set in so just an ordinary box wouldn't suffice.

They needed one to fit ....

Yes, this was the actual position that the cat was in.

With a pair of scissors and some extra strength masking tape, they managed to gently lay little Fluffy to rest wrapped warmly in a blanket in a custom made box.

Now I know you think this is the end of the story but no.....

As little Fluffy was being laid to rest, the youngest member of the family, Master N, aged 6 at the time, proceeded to sing "oh Danny Boy".

Now the lovely P does not know why the gorgeous Master N decided to belt out the tune from the old homeland but let's just say there was some tears down a few faces that evening.

R.I.P Little Fluffy

I think we can all learn a lesson here

Cheers

Lisa xox