Wondering what the heck is flying round my yard...

At sunset this evening I suddenly heard a "Rrrraaahhh" sound outside. Sounded like the cross between an elephant and a chalkboard scratching.

Went out, looked up into a tree, and this is what I saw.


Not a super clear shot, since it was way up in the tree in heavy foliage, but the bird looked about the size of a parrot. In fact, it looked like a white parrot.

Anyone out there have a clue what it's called?

Anyway, I'm always happy to have a new addition (that is not a snake or snake-like) into our little retreat, so I hope it sticks around.

Cats were sure licking their lips though....

Having a pit bull named Booger was the least of her problems....

Turns out the lady who got her dead doggie cloned into 5 puppies has a strange and twisted past, involving, in part, three-legged horses, 15-year-old burglars and a Mormon missionary sex slave.

You can't make this stuff up.

Read on...

Hermit brain

I have this weird thing that, whenever I go home to Canada, my writing mind switches off, thus the lack of blog posts lately.

Going home always brings up a swirl of memories, events, emotions, not to mention a bit of added stress from the near-panicked sense that it's all too short, not enough people seen, not enough said/done/accomplished.

My mind fills to overflowing with ideas and recollections, and, taking a step back from my life in Phuket, I start to ponder the whole "What is the purpose of my life" question.

And with all of these swirling thoughts and forgotten dreams nudged to the surface, you'd think that it would send me straight to my office for hour upon hour of free-flowing writing.

Nope. Haven't written a word about any of it.

Been reading lots, though. Reveling in the glory of words - other people's words.

More on that later.

And while I'm here, on the computer, writing these words, I should give a shout out to the two ladies mentioned in my previous post.

Being a writer myself, I feel I've committed almost a criminal act by mentioning how I was moved to tears by someone's words and stage performances, and then not giving these wonderful gals the credit they're due.

So here they are:

The Cowboy Poet Lady extraordinaire: Doris Daley
The yodeling beauty with a honey-sweet voice: Eli Barsi

(The song referred to in Ms Barsi's link was co-written with Ms Daley, and I loved it)

I didn't know about either of you before I saw you, but now I'm certain to never forget.

Rock on cowgirls!

Slipped out

The Thaksin saga continues...former PM Thaksin Shinawatra and his wife have decided to head for greener pastures in the UK, following her conviction on tax evasion charges and in the midst of his ongoing corruption-related court cases.

And, on a related note, I am pleased to learn that, should I ever be convicted of a crime, the good folks at passport control will happily let me pop out of the country for a bit of international jet-setting around Asia before having to serve my jail term.

Pity that justice won't be served here, but hopefully more crooked Thai politicians will follow his lead and get a one-way ticket outta here so that normal people can just get on with their lives.

Back to big sky land

Been back to Calgary for more than a week now. No time to write. My three year old got a fever after the first day here and so has been clinging to me fiercely saying, "I miss home. I want to go home now." But he's ok now, especially upon meeting his 4-year-old cousin -- they adore each other and play hard until they both drop from exhaustion.

Other highlights:

My grandma took me and my sisters out to a show that had three women performers: a fiddle player, a cowboy poet and a singer/songwriter. It was held in a garden center inside a huge greenhouse with beautiful flowers all around. I was expecting something rather amateurish and lame, so was amazed when these women turned out to be amazing performers -- humourous, beautiful and talented. And their content was all about things I grew up knowing.

I bought the singer's CD and when I went to ask her to sign it I turned into a freakish teenaged crazed fan. I started telling her about how her songs made me homesick, and when I began explaining about how I lived so far away I started gushing and blubbering and tearing up, much to her surprise. I wanted to say, "No really, I'm a normal person" but I was too busy bawling to do it. I am such a FREAK!

I never would have thought that a yodeling lady in a cowboy hat and a turquoise neck scarf could turn me into such putty, but she did.

Got two more weeks here -- hoping to get into the blue rocky mountains and see some friends.

Onwards and upwards!

Guru 4u

I will start doing yoga, just as soon as I find that brand of yoga pants that Oprah mentioned on her show, as well as the Om Shanti yoga mat, and, of course, once I decide upon whether I'm going to practice Jnana Yoga, Hatha Yoga, Karma Yoga, Raja Yoga or Bhakti Yoga, or a suitable combination.

I'm always struck by how all things spiritual, when adopted by the West, quickly turn into commercial ventures, as this story on a new age retreat illustrates.

And it's hard not to spot the irony in the wellness movement here in Thailand, which is driven by the hospitality industry (every resort is adding the moniker "& Spa" to its brand name), and, from what I can gather, run mainly by expat Westerners.

Yoga, and its best friend massage, has been practiced in Thailand for something like 2,000 years, but only in the last 10 years or so has it been discovered that stimulating chakra flow is also a pretty good way to unblock one's cash flow, too.

Chi-ching!

Snippets

We're heading to Canada soon, the first time travelling as a family of four. I'm really looking forward to getting there; really, really dreading the flight. Not quite sure what we'll do with a 3-year-old and a 20-month-old in a confined space for 20+ hours (plus hours of airport waiting time).

I'm bracing for the worst: zero minutes of sleep + hysterical childiren + major spillage and/or vomiting and/or leaky diapers + massive delays or flight cancellations + hateful stares from all airline passengers and staff.

At the same time, I'm planning to adopt a temporary mantra: "Air travel is fun. Air travel is fun. Air travel is tons o' fun. Nonstop fun air travel is."

I'm hoping this dual plan of attack in coping will help those hours slip by quickly and with minimum pain. I figure if I'm prepared for the worst, catching 10 minutes of sleep and arriving to Calgary with a clean shirt will feel like a triumph.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to experiencing cool, bone-dry air and random sightings of cowboys, not to mention meeting my brother-in-law for the first time, as well as a 1-year-old nephew. Hoping to kick back with both of my grannys, who now live in the same apartment building, for our convenience.

I'm keen to use a piece of technology that I don't have here: a dryer. It shall be nice to just chuck a pile of clothes into this magical box and pull them out within the hour all fresh and warm, and not have to worry about a monsoon storm blowing through and soaking everything.

My poor jeans have had a hard time this season. Not only do they smell like sewer most of the time, but the last time I pulled them off the clothesrack after hanging them out to dry, I noticed that the entire ass was carpeted with stinging red ants. I calmly removed them by doing the HOLY SHIT I'VE GOT ANTS ON MY PANTS dance, swinging them wildly, beating them against the balcony rail.

And I wore them yesterday, feeling extremely attractive now knowing that my ass is the place where ants go to die.

And here's a random fact: I don't currently own a single pair of shorts, and I still wear jeans, even though the average daytime temperatures are almost always 30+ degrees C and humidity averages at something like 600%.

Prairie girls die hard.

I do love flip-flops though.

My son's not so keen on flip-flops lately after having a run-in with an evil green creature. He was running across the yard when he suddenly stopped and started screaming and waving his foot around. I rushed over and saw that a huge praying mantis was clinging on the side of his foot.

Luckily there was a stick on the ground nearby so I grabbed it and used it to flick the thing off. As soon as it hit the ground Sunny the Great Hunter cat pounced on it and that was that.

What was dat!? my son asked.

I took him inside, gently sat him down, and Googled it.

And we spent the next half hour or so poring over pictures of praying mantises, while I tried to erase the image of these giant black eyes staring at me while the cat mauled it.

Tonight, as I sat in the living room, a tree frog jumped on the window right beside my head.

Earlier today, I noticed that termites had formed a little tunnel all along the back wall of our bathroom and up into our cupboard under the sink, and had set up a full-blown termite resort in a package of, err, sanitary products.

Getting back to the land of gophers and garter snakes will be a nice break from all these creepy creatures here in the tropics. My home and sterile land!