We all present these glossy lives to the world; coffee cups presented to dewy sunrises, champagne in airport lounges, luxurious restaurants that cost more than they should and share the blue skies days of exploration. I'm as guilty as anyone. But, what about behind those scenes? Those days where the wind is so strong you can't instastory for talking (I'm looking at you Cornwall), when travel mistakes happen (like in Vienna where I accidentally booked our trip a day short) or when everyone asks you what your next trip will be and you sheepishly have to answer 'er, not sure'. So I thought I'd get a few things off my chest, and confess a few of the reasons why I probably shouldn't be calling myself a travel blogger. And yes, these are all very much first world problems. 1. I hate photographs of myself. Ironic, no? Especially when one of the first rules of blogging is all about the cult of personality. I just don't like them. I wish I did, but there are few times that I fancy a photo and even less when I like the result. 2. We nip into a MacDonalds at least once every trip. It has now become a tradition between nicer restaurants to nip in and order a Big Mac and fries at some point of our trip but especially in Europe for some reason. Why do their MacDonalds meals taste better? 3. Pastels aren't really my shade. Again, I wish I could be super girly, twirling in gossamer skirts painted in spring shades but I'm just not. My colour palette is decidedly autumnal/jewel hued and usually sticks to a scarf draped around my neck in a hopefully fashionable manner. And I'm totally ok with that. 4. I once travelled all the way to New Zealand and back (stopping in 3 countries enroute) without a lens cap on my brand new, fairly expensive camera. This is in no way a #humblebrag about the trip, but a comment on how impractical I can be and how careful I also am. I lovingly wrapped my camera in a soft scarf every day for 3 weeks, growled under my breath at anyone who looked like they might jostle me and at one point found... Question: When did the narrator accidentally find herself on a volcano? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- When she was travelling through Yosemite National Park
- When she was travelling through New Zealand
- not enough information
- When she was travelling through Africa
When she was travelling through New Zealand

My daughter was away at college preparing for her final exams and nursing boards. I knew that my daughter's cat, who has been part of our family since my daughter was in second grade, was dying of a fast growing cancer. I couldn't tell my daughter because I didn't want to upset her and take her mind off her studies and impending graduation. Once our Vet determined that there was nothing further that could be done she showed me how to give pain meds and fluids at home to keep her comfortable in hopes that she would live long enough to allow my daughter to say goodbye after her graduation. The entire week I stayed with our cat around the clock. She had completely stopped eating and drinking and was slowly dying before my eyes. She slept most of the time except when I had to put the needle in between her shoulder blades to give her fluids. Then she would cry quietly and look at me with pleading eyes. Her breathing was becoming so shallow that I had to get close to her and listen to see if she was still alive. After a week of this I began to realize that the most unselfish thing I could do for this beautiful creature was to let her go. I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and and drove her to our Vets office after they had closed for the day. She was so skinny and frail but when I held her close she still purred. I thanked her for the 14 years she had been one of my daughter's closest companions and I held her as she took her last breath. I was afraid my daughter was going to be angry with me when I told her that i made the decision with out giving her time to say goodbye. She was sad but understood that I did the kindest thing I could have done for her kitty. Question: Where did the Mom take the cat? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- To a doctor
- To the vet
- not enough information
- To the grocery

Answer: To the vet

My old roommate's cats, Clise and Monkey, were about as different as cats could be. Clise, rescued as an emaciated kitten from a local park, grew up to be morbidly obese. His interests mainly involved eating food, begging for food, or going around the neighborhood scrounging for food. He could hear a can opener from a mile away. Monkey was a more active cat. He liked to chase the laser pointer and was the first to run to the door when someone arrived. But he could also be lazy, lounging in a sunbeam or stretched out on the couch. Both of them liked to watch TV. Soon after I moved in, I started having health issues which necessitated a lot of time lounging around myself. This was the era of reality TV, back when much of it was actually good. The cats, Monkey especially, watched with me. Monkey definitely had his preferences. His favorite shows were The Girls Next Door and Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making The Team. Notice a theme here? Playboy Playmates and professional cheerleaders. Monkey liked his T & A (tits and ass). If one of these shows was on, and I turned it to Project Runway or something, Monkey would march off. But as soon as I turned it back, and he could hear the high-pitched giggling, he'd come running back. Clise's favorite shows were Top Chef, Iron Chef, and Rachael Ray. Food porn. If there was something he especially craved, like a shrimp stir-fry, he'd assume a begging pose, right in front of the TV, as if Rachael might take pity on him and throw him a scrap or two. I moved out about a year later. A few months previous, Monkey ended up catching some wasting disease and dying, but Clise, as far as I know, is still there, begging for scraps from anyone he can in real life or televised. Question: Where was Clise found? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- A local park.
- not enough information
- Abandoned in the street.
- Around the neighborhood.
A local park.