Kevlah and kitties with speckles

When life gets expensive and my body files complaints every morning about getting out of bed, I need good news. I heard that a new species of cat was discovered. Tilcayo kitties in Bolivia. Smaller than a house cat and covered in speckles. Just what I need to get the good feelings pumping. I'm not sure how my two cats would welcome an interloper like a Tilcayo, but I'm willing to give it a try. Bolivia was not on my bucket list places to visit, but I could be convinced. The fact that I dislike flying or travelling (yes, even by car or bus) or moving anywhere out of my comfort zone is a problem. My sister and her partner are visiting me next month and I am planning our itinerary. Or lack of one to be truthful. Fly to Queenstown and drive by bus to the Fjords and take a cruise down or is that up, the fjords, sounded like fun ... for a second. Then I factored in things like the cost of travel and the time it would take. And yes, it's pretty, but is it 'two days of travel' pretty and isn't there stuff closer to home that is just as good? Picturesque and easy to access. Well there are a plethora of places that fit that description. Places we can visit and still get home at night to put our feet up. The Godwits are just down the road. No, the Godwits are not the same as the Godwin boys who lived down the road from us as children and desperately wanted to complete our sex education when we were barely into our teens. Godwits are birds with long beaks who fly across the world to land on beaches about an hour north of here. Frankly I would rather peer through binoculars at feathered birdies than bare assed boys. Now, talking of binoculars, my dad only had one eye (the other was damaged in a work accident and replaced with a glass eye, that sadly had no vision capabilities) and his magnifier of choice was a monocular. When my husband lost his eye to cancer, he spoke of my dad's monocular and wondered if he should buy one for himself. But he never got around to it. So, here I sit and wonder if I too should purchase a set of binoculars because we all know that distance does not make the view more amazing as you age. It just gets fuzzier. I started this post complaining about the high cost of living and now I am contemplating buying stuff. Maybe it's not just my vision that is getting fuzzier but my critical thinking abilities too? But it is important to know your Godwit from your seagull or your kakapo from your kereru. And I would love to see that cute owl who calls to me each night. Or even the kingfisher and the marsh hens. They are all really gorgeous.

I have an apology to make. I phoned my sister in Cornwall and a man answered the phone. He sounded happy and relaxed and I wondered if it was the husband of one of my nieces. But no, it was my brother-in-law in the flesh. Sorry Michael, I thought you were twenty years younger. In the flush of youth? No. But definitely in a good space in your life. Ten feet tall and bulletproof? Maybe. Which got me thinking about Kevlar. Yup, it's my usual jump from one subject to another that I will blame on ADHD. In 1965 Stephanie Kwolek was given the job as a chemist to find a lightweight fibre to reinforce car tyres. Thinking that there might be a gas/petrol shortage, they were looking for ways to lighten the weight of cars to cut back on gas. Stephanie developed a polymer that could be spun into a tough fibre and Kevlar was born. She worked for DuPont at the time and ended up not getting a cent of the sales her work generated. But she said it was all fine because she got to see how her work saved the lives of thousands of men and women and allowed them to go home each night. Ooops sorry, they did give her a medal. That reminds me of working for two days solidly deciphering a document from 1600's for a lady. I typed up my report and handed it over to her. She said "Oh okay. Thanks." This was not some part of a job or even a friend or friend of a friend, this was someone who heard I did this stuff and came to me. Not that I expected a barrow load of money, but maybe a box of chocolates or something. Anyhow I stood on her doorstep with my mouth full of teeth (a saying my grandmother used) and looked at her with a frown on my face. She must have realised that I expected something more and said "You do this free of charge, don't you?" I said no and turned around and went to my car. Well, said lady came to see me about a week later with another ancient document and handed it to me and said "Can you do this one too?" No, I can't or let me rephrase that "Hell no, I can't." I told her to find someone else she could take advantage of. Showing gratitude would be nice and no, a medal won't do the trick. Stephanie Kwolek might have been happy with a certificate and a ceremony and, yes, that is a form of gratitude, but it just don't cut it in my book. Okay I'm acting petty. Sue me. I'm old and eccentric and just get used to it.

I was horrified to hear that 15 women (some say 9 women) were murdered in Johannesburg in a day. They arrested a man and the murders continued, so, maybe they didn't arrest the right guy. I cannot imagine how scary that would be. I follow a crime scene cleaner on Tik Tok and he says most women are killed by their own family members, but when it is strangers, it is on another level of fear. Most violent attacks in the home can be predicted. I'm not saying they are avoidable, but certainly the signs are there. It's like living with a monster in your life. Home should be the safe space in a world of chaos. Anyhow, back to the ladies of Joburg. Educated, intelligent women who never made it back to their families. When we lived on a farm near Empangeni, my husband would drive the kids to school every morning. One day he glanced into the gully alongside the road and saw blood and gore. He dropped the kids off and then reported what he had seen to the police. It turned out to be a jealous boyfriend who had taken a machete to the lady who had complained about his wandering ways. But apparently what was good for the goose was not good for the gander or visa versa. The Joburg ladies don't seem to have known their attacker. What on earth could they have done to warrant that type of violence? If I was still mobile enough to go for a jog in my new hometown, I would not have to fear. The only violence I would worry about was aching joints and huffing and puffing breath. Teddy Roosevelt said "Speak softly and carry a big stick." He said it was a West African proverb. He said it during a speech at the Minnesota State Fair in 1901 and a few days later President William McKinley was assassinated and Roosevelt became POTAS (President of the United States of America). A big stick will not save you from trouble and speaking softly if it is not backed by strength of resolve and character, won't help either. And of course boasting about how marvelous you are .. well that's just dumb. I just wish someone was close enough to those women who was carrying a big stick and could wack that nasty piece of work from here into next week. My usual pacifist ways get hijacked at times and I have to repent. But maybe I will wait until the serial killers are behind bars or out of commission. Keep well my dear little munchkins.