Spin doctors – copywriters – marketing hype etc., all rely on the power of words to tell you a story.
The latest comes from the oil industry who have finally come on board with the whole climate thing. In other words, no longer saying it’s a hoax.
But now, especially in the U.S., since the new government is back into the whole ‘save the environment’ mode, big oil is getting the message out that ‘natural gas is now ‘low carbon gas’.
Come again?
Yes, you read that right. The ‘low carbon’ talk is being ramped up and being spun in all sorts of directions. ‘Low carbon solutions’ or how about ‘low carbon technologies’? These are the words that are currently being used.
Now methane (short-lived but 86 times more potent than carbon) is a massive problem. It comes from many different sources, including leaking out of pipelines or being burned off at refineries. By the way, methane emissions are increasing more rapidly than scientists thought, and in the past 20 years, it’s risen by 150%, whereas carbon’s gone up 50%.
So our friends at big oil want us to keep our eye on carbon and are getting us to believe that natural gas is the ‘good guy’ because it is ‘low carbon’. Don’t fret your beautiful head about methane – it’s short-lived, so not the worry.
It’s all bullshit. No matter what the industry or governments, for that matter, tell us. Coal, gas, oil, animal agriculture, rotting food all play an enormous part in the mess we find ourselves in as they all emit methane. And my money is on methane being the elephant in the room.
So ‘low carbon’ is just another play on words that is being spun to the plebs to get them to believe they are doing something that will help reduce emissions.
And on we will go – forever forward and upward with our emissions.
Every so often, things happen in life that become little triggers for memories.
The older I get, the more those little triggers fire up a memory. The trouble is, often, the memory is not in full coloured detail. More likely, it’s a fleeting “oh, yeah, I remember…. Um… how did that go again?” type of picture. Other times a little trigger can transport me back to a place, and I experience a full re-enactment of a long-ago time.
Of the five senses we possess, it appears that smell is the most dramatic.
A smell can trigger all sorts of recollections and recapture moments in vivid detail.
To give you an example.
There is a particular supermarket here in Tauranga. It’s not one that I regularly frequent as it is some distance away. But on the odd occasion that I do, as soon as I walk in, I am immediately transported to a specific supermarket in Arcata, California. I would go there with my daughter whenever I visited her. Sometimes even going on my own driving her American ‘truck’ with its column change and steering wheel on the wrong side – my adventure!
But why does this one N.Z. supermarket remind me of the one in Arcata and not other markets? It’s definitely the smell that is exactly the same the moment I step inside. I believe it could be how both of them are laid out. The N.Z. one has a café with the coffee smell to the right, the produce to the left, and that includes the bakery. The Arcata one is laid out slightly differently, but the combination of the smell of the coffee, the bakery and the produce is the same and this is the trigger.
So on the odd time when I am missing my daughter, especially during this last year when neither one of us can visit, I go over to the city and saunter into this supermarket. I close my eyes, and I’m right there with her.
And just so you know it’s not only me. Her father has the exact same reaction.
There are times when I see things and I do wonder what the story is. And this was one of those times when I spied a toy.
So in this case I have to ask – when is a toy not a toy? And I’m not talking about adult toys… Please, raise your thoughts into higher spheres.
Although, in this case, there may be a bit of ‘gutter speak’ going on.
Now, this particular type of little toy – see image below, I’ve seen around many times. It pops up in odd places, like hanging on a keyring or on a kiddie’s backpack.
This little man is keeping guard over the front door, hanging from the coat rack.
So when I spied one on the back of a large Toyota trucky-type vehicle, I smiled but then did a double-take when I spied something rather unusual about it.
First thing I noticed was that it was on the outside back window and gave the illusion that someone, other than the owner, had put it there, deliberately.
Now, I’m quite sure that the guy who owns the Toyota. Whoa, that’s a bit sexist of me to assume that it’s someone of the male persuasion that owns this double-cab massive, extremely clean (LOL) wagon. It could easily be a woman.
But I digress.
Now the person who owns the truck, I’m quite sure didn’t attach the toy up there for all to see. And what makes me think that is because the very next day, the truck was in the gym car park but the toy was gone!
So, take a look at the photo……. Carefully.
As I said, I did do a double-take when I saw that an extra appendage had been added.
Now what nudges my funny-bone is that there has to be some story that goes along with it.
An inside joke?
A jilted lover?
A flirtatious affair?
I realise I’ll never know the story, but it was certainly fun thinking about it.
How old am I? Too old for the gym experience? NEVER! In saying that, I never thought I’d be crossing over into the gym world.
It’s gym time! Early morning. Well, not that early; I don’t do ‘early’ any more. But by 8 am (or near enough), I’m at the gym. As a gold card-carrying member, I only have between 8 and 3 pm to do my thing.
So 8 am it is.
It’s a great way to start the day.
I never thought I’d become a ‘gym bunny’, but here I am, working out to build up my strength and do a bit of toning on the side.
Midway through last year, I came to the sad conclusion that my body was starting to give up. I already knew that if I leaned over, my face fell off, and that gravity was playing havoc with the boobs and bum. As for the wrinkles – well, I know I’ll be old soon enough, and then they will fit my age!
But it was my strength I worried more about.
Back in the day, I used to get plenty of exercise as a therapist. I stood most of the day, working out, pummelling a person’s tired muscles to get them to relax. At other times I waxed and scrubbed bodies to get them looking their best or gently massaged faces with creams and lotions.
By the end of the day, I was tired, but it was a good tired. I felt invigorated.
Then I left that world, and over the years, my lifestyle got more and more sedentary with computer work.
But a gym? The last experience I had became boring really quickly, and then there was the cost. Besides, I just couldn’t compete with the lycra-wearing, toned babes and the ripped trainers whose pestering did my head in.
Then, simply walking in and hearing the grunts and groans from the howlers, as they strained under a heavy barbell was also not appealing to my sensitive ears.
So when I decided that I would have to do something serious to shape up before I slope off this mortal coil, I decided that I’d put my nose into a few gyms.
As soon as I’d see the ‘model’ using their phone, especially taking selfies, I would cross that gym off the list. Then there were the ones that have the loud music pumping throughout, making me feel like I’m in the mosh-pit of some rock concert.
Imagine my delight when I walked into the BayFit gym. The very first thing I saw were oldies – people like me in shorts and t-shirts. All shapes and sizes. Sure there were some younger ones, but it seems like everyone was there for the same reason – to get fit and not be prima-donnas.
And another plus? No mirrors! Well, there’s one, but it’s discreet, and I forget it’s there.
Taking the ball from the hands to the feet without touching the floor and
straightening out each time… closest thing I get to sweating!
Along with my membership, I have access to the pools, the classes and a trainer every so often. So, here I am, a gym bunny, and I love it.
A girls’ weekend has to be the best bonding time ever created.
You probably already know that I’m in an Improv group (which I’ll tell you more about on another day). This troupe is an almost equal mix of both men and women and one that I feel genuinely grateful for having the comradery of exceptional people.
It shouldn’t come as any great surprise then that the women of the group decided to have a weekend away to have some quality time away from the comedy. Let me point out here that these women range in age from late 30s through to me, who is the oldest at 68. There are more than 10 years between myself and the next one down. Now, I’m no sociologist, but I believe that these women keep me young, keep me being open to new adventures, and certainly keep me looking forward rather than back.
The first sojourn was in 2020, if my memory serves me correctly, just before lockdown. Not everyone was in attendance, and those absent were missed, but the gals who did go enjoyed a rain-filled, odd house weekend. Due to the weather, the only activities involved hot pools and massage. Well, it was Rotorua (also known as Rotovegas for my international readers), after all. Aren’t hot pools mandatory?
The latest weekend, held recently, was definitely a step-up. It was again in Rotorua simply because there’s always lots to do there, and it’s very close. The bonus was that the entire female Honest Liars Improv contingent were there.
It began with Frenzied Friday, relaxed into a Slower Saturday and ended with Stimulating Sunday. Well, these were the chapter headings I thought summed up the weekend!
The AirB&B home was primo. Not only was it a beautiful house, but it also offered a big enough spa pool and a fire pit on the deck which overlooked a calm vista of rolling hills.
As I said – it was a Frenzied Friday. That’s because everyone arrives, cars unloaded, snacks laid out and drinks started. With seven women, you can imagine how many delicious snacks there were, so much so that dinner type food was never even given a thought.
It was serious work firing up the fire pit, especially not finding the fire starters until well after the flames leapt into life the old fashioned way.
By the time the deck was smoked out, it soon became obvious the best thing to do was to get into the hot tub.
As more slipped into the warm bubbling water to escape the smoke, the deep talking really began. Naturally, I’m going to add here that the famous line by Colson Whitehead from the movie The Noble Hustle.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”
So, no, you’re not going to get any of the juicy details. Needless to say, it wasn’t just in the pool; there were funny, lively, detailed conversations going on throughout the evening and subsequent days.
Saturday saw a much quieter day, although it was full, beginning with a bit of mini-golf with bunnies. That’s right. Flemish Rabbits hopped around the course to the enjoyment of all. The bunny golf was followed by a delicious lunch at the Atticus Finch restaurant which catered for everyone, including the two vegans!
A gentle walk by the lake, then it was off for the mandatory massage. Everyone was too tired to go out clubbing or any other thing that involved strenuous activity, and so it was back to the house, and finally, Friday’s meal was laid out on the counter for all to partake.
No better way to end the evening than to sit around and watch a girly movie. And the one of choice could have been made just for us. ‘Wine Country’, a story about a group of friends who have a weekend away to celebrate a birthday. Set in Napa Valley, the perfectly planned weekend turns into a wine-soaked event that changes the women forever. Although we were perhaps not quite as rambunctious, and we certainly didn’t have a ‘Devon’ who came with their house, we all laughed at some of the similarities we saw.
And so onto Sunday. Everyone had clear heads by then, and a walk through the Redwoods after breakfast invigorated us all. We could each return to our ‘normal’ lives refreshed, revitalised and revelling in the beautiful bonding that had only deepened our friendship.
Oh, I must mentioned that not only was the house beautiful, the weather was stunning also. A far cry from the previous girls’ weekend. But where both did hit the mark was with the fun we had. Do you have time out with your tribe? Please let me know in the comments.
Thanks for dropping by. My name is Fee O’Shea. I’m a mother and grandma, an author, and a Comedy Improver.
This blog is for my thoughts, my rants, raves, reviews and things that have grabbed my attention. From politics to social media to beauty, health and the environment. Fee’s World Over Coffee is written to bring you a smile or get you thinking. Enjoy.
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