Ducklings, seedlings and stuff

We started planting our Summer vegetables this week. Well, when I say 'we', I really mean Barry did the planting and I did the oohing and aahing. We have pots of strawberries and drums of tomatoes and even an eggplant or two next to the cucumbers and courgettes. I was tempted by the 'Buy 3 for $10' bin and bought some curry plants and some catnip. Thinking I was a good momma to our furbabies, I rubbed the catnip on my fingers and approached Venus for a cuddle. Her hair stuck up straight and she hissed at me and then attacked the discarded leaf with energy. Jumping back as it uncurled and then pouncing again to 'kill' the offender. Maybe I was misinformed and it is the ant-catnip? I have actually had a day filled with animals today. I was on my way to aquajogging in the neighbouring town when I saw a mother duck with about ten ducklings crossing the busy highway. So I slowed down, much to the disgust of the traffic behind me. A large 16 wheeler truck was barreling towards me on the opposite side of the road and I almost closed my eyes in anticipation of a quackling disaster, but the ducklings and their mom all made it across within a tail feather of destruction, none the wiser and totally oblivious of the danger. Once upon a time, we were traveling in a mini-bus along a highway when the driver braked for a duck and its ducklings. The people on the back bench (who were not wearing seatbelts) came shooting past me, sliding on their behinds and crashing into the front seats followed by all our bags and lunch boxes. No one was injured except for the ducklings who sadly did not make it to safety. Not a pretty sight. The driver was chastised for exceeding the speed limit, but realistically those fluffy little feather balls were doomed as soon as their mother led the way onto the roadside. Why did the chicken or duck cross the road? Who knows.

We took two of our grandchildren to a church activity this week where for two hours they were taught how to care for their bodies by eating healthy food. For the finale, the organizers set out bowls of healthy food intermingled with marshmallows and chocolate pineapple chunks and jellied sweets of multi-coloured hues and excessive sugar content. The kids were all given a skewer and told to make a kebab representing what they had learned. Some children had obviously absorbed the teachings about their bodies being temples and deserving of healthy food but there was a lot, and I mean a really lot, of kids that went straight for the sugar and sadly our granddaughter was one of them. In the car, I asked her to tell me what they had been taught and she said 'Who says that vegetables are better for you than lollies?' Little Miss Rebel. But maybe it's not such a bad thing to question what you are taught? It was also her eighth birthday and later in the day we had the party which included healthy food and then there was the pinata. Guess what food the kiddies chose? Well, really not just the children either. There were a significant amount of people who were dipping into the cupcakes before their main meal. Our youngest granddaughter thought she had landed in lolly heaven when the pinata started raining sweets from heaven. The look on her face was classic. A lot of the bigger kids climbed in and filled their goodie bags to the brim with sweets, leaving just the dregs for the little ones. Omani, our oldest grandson, decided that this was not fair and soon chivvied the older ones to help the babies get their fair share. It was really lovely to see them bend down and dole out their riches to those less fortunate. Long may that attitude continue.

My latest book, 'The Final Waltz' has hit the Amazon shelves and it is such fun to see the reactions of readers. I must admit to disliking any negative feedback and it seriously affects my writing abilities when I get criticism. I believe that there is nothing positive about constructive criticism and all criticism is negative and destructive. So I only read the 4 or 5-star reviews. Sorry folks if you gave me a 1 or 2-star review, I don't read them. I know it is wrong, but when I hear that someone doesn't like my stories I feel like rolling into a ball and hibernating. When the doctor told me, many years ago, that our daughter was going to die, I went home and climbed into bed for three days straight. Our family doctor came around to see how I had taken the news (doctors did that back in the eighties) and there I was with my head under a pillow. Okay, I know it doesn't equate. Getting a bad review and receiving news that your child is going to die is in no way the same as being told your writing sucks does. So sue me. I will claim Post Traumatic Stress disorder and whenever bad things happen to me I revert straight back to that moment in the doctor's office. I must say that I am glad he (the Doctor) advised me to go home and get pregnant to save my sanity. I did just that and when Colette died, I was pregnant with baby number four. I would have had ten children if I could have, sadly my body was not on the same page as my dreams. I love being a Mom. Our youngest child recently thanked me for persevering and having five children. If I had stopped at 2 or 3 or even 4 she would not be here today. Not that it was easy for us. Finances were always tight. Very tight. And none of our kids were what could be called 'normal'. We had one with dyslexia, one with autism, one with ADHD and well, one who died and our eldest who sadly had to be our practice kid. Not that it helped to have practiced on Sean. None of his siblings were in any way the same and each one was a whole new ballgame. Oh well, we tried our best.

I have a kiln that needs to be filled and fired, a pile of canvases that have to be ready for an exhibition in four weeks and I can no longer procrastinate by 'chatting; to you folks.

Ta ta and bye for now Pat