I DARE YOU TO CUT THE CAKE

When I really need a laugh, I pop over to cakewrecks .

There is no way I could take a cake knife to Bullwinkle. The eyes are so realistic I can practically see Rocket J. Squirrel mirrored in them.

NOT MUCH FIRE LEFT IN THE OLD BOILER

Just one I'd forgotten to publish. It can't be for walking in, it's just a work of art and look at the single thorn on the heel to compliment the rose theme. It's Bruno again, designing for Roger Vivier. I think to keep it on you'd have to get some polident for the feet, just like keeping dentures from falling on the footpath.

I'm really tired. How tired? I walked into the kitchen and had to think hard about what I'd just eaten for tea.

Mother has her new Homeyped dusty rose slippers, size 12. I was a bit dodgy about the 12 but with the arthritis her feet are very swollen in the joints and the size was just right. Sight of the day was Ma trying to lift her foot to show the other ladies how pretty they were. Pretty like the above, not quite, more like the QEII docking in the wheel chair.

So that's two days out in a row. One more bag full of odments to take down there and then I'm removing myself from her sight for one whole week. The slave is breaking the chains. Freedom is so hard to get used to and I'm the only one who knows where everything is in the house but the last is packed including the rolling pin for the activities sessions. She was hinting how much they need a food processor, did I need mine, bloody hell, yes.

My house is full of her house and I need to separate the two but first I'd like a whole day in bed with the sun streaming in and chocolate to eat and books to read. Three out of four is possible since I'm half way through the chocolate and it's not going to last until tomorrow.

Two relo's have dropped off the twig in the past fortnight. Ma said if she hadn't been somewhere nice, it could have been her.

Nothing - I'm saying nothing - Nothing.

FRISONI 11

Just one more from dear Bruno. I am such a sucker for shoes with bows and this is the bow of bows. If only he would make me a pair with Louis IV heels, I'm getting vertigo just looking at the height of this ankle cracker.

FRISONI

On the 2nd June, 1953 Princess Elizabeth was crowned Queen Elizabeth 11. Under her heavily beaded dress she was wearing a pair of custom made Roger Vivier gold leather kidskin shoes. He inlaid the heels with rubies and the upper was inspired by the fleurs-de-lis on the St. Edward Crown and the Imperial State Crown worn by the Queen.

Now in 2009, Bruno Frisoni has a new range of shoes inspired by that coronation shoe. Fuschia, gold and black, my favourite colours.

I have to admit I love this red shoe, and the jewells and dangly beads. The thought of wearing it, even for a few minutes brings back memories of the acute pain of walking in stilletto heels.

THEIR SECRET IS OUT OF THE CLOSET

Damn cockroaches, I always knew they had an ace up their feelers.

The little swines can hold their breath for up to 7 minutes.

They use air filled tubes called trachea to deliver oxygen directly to cells.
The trachea while delivering oxygen also carries water vapour out of the cells so they stop breathing to conserve water.

Investigating this meant examining cockroach breathing (I would so want a lot of loot to do that) under different conditions of oxygen, carbon dioxide and humidity. In dry air they opened their spiracles (air valves) for less time so they didn't lose as much water.

This proves that cockroaches resistant to pesticides could simply be holding their breath.

I knew it!

The only way to kill the little rotters is to bash them with the can of roach spray and finish them off with an iron bar.

Never mind a nuclear blast, it looks like they'll love climate change.

The one on the right is called Robert and the one on the left is called Robbert.

GASP SHOCK HORROR

MY MOTHER'S PLAYING BINGO!

I blame Robbbert.

I COULD ONLY EAT HAIGH'S CHOCOLATES FROM THIS SERVING DISH

This was for the last post but blogger only relented when I signed the terms of service box and I haven't a clue what I signed away, probably my soul. I usually loathe tattoos but this one seems discreet and since he's nicely smooth there'll be no hairs on the chocolates. Take note Oz this is what you should be aiming for.

Unfortunately I don't have any Haigh's but I did pick up a 250gram block of Old Gold peppermint cream dark chocolate which was only a little over the 'use by' date. I also got $10 on a scratchie. I tell you the day was good, with all that and a free loaf of bread, tinned tomatoes at 77 cents and I came in under the food budget.

When I got to the home this morning, Mother was holding court in the day room again. She had another list for me. She needs the large mirror which my sister keeps forgetting to take. A letter to Aunt Selma to be posted, a rolling pin, a bag of lemons and a pair of slippers. The girls in the activities room bring their own rolling pin if they have a cooking afternoon so Mum has donated hers, I get to find it. They also have to buy lemons at $1 each for the cooking afternoons, I get to haul a bagful down there. The slippers are because she has to wear the TED stockings now that she's not walking but she can't wear them with open toed shoes. With supreme confidence, she told the physio that her daughter would know exactly what to get and where. Thanks Ma, no pressure to be superdaughter. I did find them, Homeyped have special ones for diabetics, velco fastener at the back, two across the front so they open right out and can be put on easily. I left a $10 deposit and they'll be in next week and I ordered them in dusty rose pink. Mission accomplished and I can't tell how much of a pleasure it was, knowing that they would be appreciated.

I've just got the hard rubbish notice and I hate to say HawtAndrew was right when he said the chair I boosted last year would still be unpainted in 12 months. I hate it when men are right.
Anyway it's back to the house next week to make sure that nothing of mine gets chucked out and everything else does.

I've been through all the cupboards, found everything of monetary and sentimental value including family papers that someone might want to look at one day. I found the notice I'd written on my son's death. I wrote my own because nobody had bothered to ask if I wanted to say anything. I also found my grandmother's wedding ring and the cameo ring she was wearing the day she died. I knew it was hers the moment I touched it.

Mum also told me I could cut off the phone. I didn't want to do it until she was ready and settled to life away from her home but today it was done. It's been a short time and a long journey since the 10th of August but that light at the end of the tunnel is looking brighter.

WELL, THAT'S SEPTEMBER ALMOST GONE

Just imagine there is a photo of a really classy naked torso of a hot guy right here.
There should be but blogger wouldn't load it and I was going to share it with HawtAndrew.

My tooth is fixed. I am recovering from the giant dose of antibiotics I have to take whenever I see the dentist.

Mother is doing well. Aunt Patty rang on Sunday to say she wouldn't be down as she had a children's party. Mother said it was fine but if she came during the week she'd have to ring ahead. This was so she would be in her room waiting for them because she has such a busy social life these days. Lovely putdown, Ma.

I have just ironed and named her spring and summer clothes and that is the last name tag I put on anything. On Monday I delivered everything on her list including our wedding photos, the ones without the divorced grooms. Then she wanted a basket to carry her ods and bods around so I reminded her she had a little patchwork bag so that's packed.

Now if I could just pack my life into a little patchwork bag and keep it neat and out of the way, I'd be happy. It's trying to re-set the mind to the freedom setting that's giving me trouble but I think I'm almost there.

IT'S A COMMON THING

That when the stress slows down (it hasn't, believe me, it hasn't) carers can often become ill.

I sat down yesterday and wrote a note to myself.

First, see the dentist and have teeth cleaned and checked.

Second, see the doctor about those odd bouts of elevated blood pressure, the palpitations, the shakes, hyperventilating etc.

Thirdly, see the physio to finish fixing all the bone and muscle stuff from three years ago.

Then half my back molar fell off and rolled around my gob so I tore up the list in case I mozzed myself in other ways.

Good news is, the dentist is going to pour concrete over what's left in the manner of Chernobyl which should give me another few years of use.

Bad news is, it will cost $200 and my current financial status - $5.31 in the bank, $2.58 on Visa.

I think I'll try a post-dated cheque and begging for mercy.

NEVER MIND THE FOOTY AWARD

I've been given my own award. Thank you Kath Lockett and I think you might be right about the 'S' being in front of what my blog's all about.

Now according to the rules of the award I'm supposed to name seven worthy blogs to receive this award.

Too difficult. All my blogs are worthy, I never read unworthy blogs. I have droolworthy, laughworthy, learnworthy, cryworthy, envyworthy and best of all friendworthy. All of you take an award and run with it.

The second part is to divulge 10 things about myself. That's a definite piece of (S)crap.

1. I'm loving, kind to a fault and would give my last apple cake to no-one.

2. I am really slim and delicately built but live my life in a fat suit to give other people something to feel superior about.

3. I am extremely psychic which is why I don't buy Tattslotto tickets. It would be unfair to the peasants trying to win a life above their station.

4. I sing like an angel, one of Lucifer's.

5. I'd like to live on the moon as I fall down a lot and it's lower gravity would cushion the crunch.

6. I've lived at least two past lives. Nothing regal, poverty stricken more likely so I reckon this one's the best. In this life, they've invented soft ice-cream and computers.

7. I have to put this one down, I always do. I adore men in pale blue V-neck cashmere sweaters.

8. I adore men with grey hair and green eyes.

9. I consider laughter to be the best medicine and yes, I do laugh at other's misfortunes. The sheer pleasure of someone else hitting the pavement for a change brings tears to my eyes.

10. My secret identity is the Great Earth Mother. If you wish blessings to be bestowed upon you, ply me with chocolate especially the good stuff reviewed here. No need to appear in person just mail the offerings with your wish. No impossible wishes can be granted, that's the Sky Goddess' department.

Don't forget to collect your award on the way out.

FAT TAX

Skinny people in power are still going on about putting a tax on fast food.

It's for our own fat-arsed good.

Except for one thing, it's a cheap meal on a day out for a pensioner.

I counted 10 pensioners enjoying that cheap meal when I walked past MacDonald's today.

Shove it up your collective hooters, Canberra.

I HOPE YOU'RE ALL TAKING NOTES

Just when I think I have everything under control, I don't.

Paying the nursing home account is a small problem. We have some cash and money in the bank so I saw the manager of NAB in Mentone to register my Power of Attorney and find out how much money I can withdraw in one transaction.

I can't. My PoA has to go to the Head Office to be verified. I have to take my passport in before they will do that. After that I still can't take money out of the account unless it's bank cheque, $8.00, thank you very much or I arrange for a direct debit with the nursing home. Apparently this is so any despicable family members can't rip off gaga parents. Stupid manager asked me if she could come to the bank and sign out the money herself. If she could do that she wouldn't be in a nursing home, dipstick. I wouldn't go for the direct debit either, too inflexible as we have 14 days to pay when we get the next account and we might need those extra days.

I develop a headache.

The bank is next door to Baker's Delight so the diet that started well this morning died this afternoon.

I have a solution.

I go to Southland tomorrow and take out what's in the account and put it in Mum's St. George account where I also have PoA. Thursday when her pension goes in, I'll do the same because St. George gave us a big cheque book and I can sign a cheque for nothing. This was one of my bitches two years ago when NAB sent a letter saying that no more cheque books would be supplied for her account.
Then every pension day, I'll leave the direct debits in NAB and put the nursing home money and the house rent in St. George. Oh gosh and doesn't that sound so simple in writing and I hope it's that simple in operation.

And now to Centrelink. They sent us four pages of incomprehensible crap which we finally worked out was to tell us they'd assessed the broken down asset of a house and added another thousand to the amount I'd put down. This meant she couldn't get any assistance with an accommodation bond. That assessment is now sent to the Department of Aged Care and they will send us another four pages to say whether or not she has to pay more than 85% of her pension. This could take another 3 weeks.

And just to round off the day, Taxis are having new software installed for eftpos and taxi directorate cards but it's not working....sometimes. It's a bit late to tell me when we are halfway to somewhere that I will have to pay full fare. This morning I had to have a taxi considering the size of the two bags I was hauling but he used the old fashioned writing with a pen method but he wasn't used to it and used up 6 forms before I paid then I shut the door on the beads on my wrap and lost a whole string under the seat. If anyone finds them, just send them on to me.

And Mother's well enough to be giving orders. She wants the wedding photos off the mantlepiece, her address book and some cotton dresses for the warmer weather and don't forget the name tags and I can take home that dressing gown and that pink suit which is too big but leave the jackets because she'll need those for when she goes outside.

Perhaps the headache started here.

WALKING DOWN MEMORY LANE

It's Year 9 and the battleaxe in charge of needlework tells us that to pass the final exam we have to make a dress. The family is in another monetary crisis so we put a fine black wool material on lay-by. It seemed to take ages to pay off and the battleaxe was threatening a fail. I picked this pattern as it looked simple enough to make in a hurry. Wrong! The neck stands away not sits flat and as there are no sleeve seams (a plus in my choice) there is a gusset to be put in under the arm. I sweated over this and when it was finished, the battleaxe awarded me 5 out of 100 points. She said I was late with the project, the dress was black and too sophisticated and my sewing was substandard. That last one was a crock since my mother did most of the gusset bit. As for being too sophisticated, I was and I wore it to the races, the movies, in fact everywhere. I made detachable collars and changed the look constantly as it was my 'Lily Langtry' dress, the only good one I had. I wore it until the stitching and the fabric finally gave out.

And here we are at 20. I loved this dress but not in chiffon. I used a soft silver lame/lurex and the high collar was as heavily beaded as it is here. I cheated. I bought the beading by the metre from Buckley and Nunn. I wore it with Louis lV silver shoes with a silver leather rosette on the front and a matching bag. And the bling, silver drop earrings with one rainbow crystal on the end. I wasn't as skinny as the model but my hair had just been cropped from waist length and that looked like her's. I used to use a colour called Mahogany Cherry and the bath always looked like a serial killer had been at work.

The Biggie. The Wedding Dress. Yes, that is Jean Shrimpton and no, I didn't look as svelte as she does. We dropped the long train, thank the Goddess, since the drunken groom had enough trouble with the short veil which I'd decided on. The collar and sleeves were in silk chiffon and the dress fabric was linen with a paisley over stitched pattern. I've still got it and it's in good nick. I just have to stop wanting to embroider the paisley with tiny pearls.

DO NOT HOARD, THROW IT OUT!

It should be my motto but isn't, that belongs to my sister.
So I'm sitting in the middle of 25 years of craft makings and lace and satin and it's taking all my willpower to not put something on the 'to keep' pile.

There is a little craft group who will take everything, no matter how small. I don't know if they really meant that but they're getting everything except the stuff I really must keep for poverty reasons. I'd never be able to afford this or that lace in today's money.

I found receipts for 1985 when we were offered a deal to take a huge amount of discontinued lace worth $6,000 and yes, we did pay just under $3,000. It was a lot of money in '85 but I'm still wearing some of the lace collars on my dresses. When the dress wears out, I put the collar on its replacement.
I'm surprised Mum and I both didn't faint when we got home realised what we paid but when that box arrived we couldn't have cared less. Now it's come back to me.

I've spent two days just looking in boxes even though I'd been through them twice in the last 3 years but always anticipating that Mum might take up a bit of craft again but now it's the final act. I don't think she ever threw a scrap away and just as well I had a clean out a few years back so I can appear righteous.

It's surprising how rough on the hands lace can be until one picks up a glorious piece of Swiss guipure just after putting down a cheap knock-off Chinese copy. Nothing beats the rich colours, run through with gold, of Thai lace either. Now it's all computerised and made in India or China.

I have emptied 7 plastic boxes so far but there are 11 bags sitting in my sewing room.

I have a headache and handache but I've found half a block of roast almond chocolate in the cupboard, so bugger off Hoarders Anonymous.

BORING, BORING, YES IT'S MY MOTHER AGAIN

Things are beginning to settle down especially the shock at picking up the bill for the nursing home. That was my fault for not finding out how or when to pay but they've given us an extra week to find the whole amount so crisis avoided.

AGL are not behaving again. Another phone call to them tomorrow and I want the terms of our arrangement to be written in somebody's blood and posted to me.

Mum has a swizzy new wheel chair and sits in it all day instead of lying in bed. She's reading books, Barbara Cartland, her favourites. She's up with all the gossip. The lady in the other bed is a bit of a whinger which mum loves. She says it's like watching a soap opera. This morning, the hysteria was about a missing extension to her bra which was later found hanging on the clothes she wore yesterday so mum's having a good laugh about all this. Not just a smile but a good old laugh. It might be costing a packet but it's worth it.

We just won't discuss the apple cake or my weight or my blood pressure or the black eye I gave myself walking into a door.

THE CHANGES

If someone had said to me two months ago that I would sit down with my mother for two hours and have an enjoyable conversation, I would have laughed in their face. But that's what I did yesterday and probably I'll have the same conversation tomorrow since the short term memory isn't getting any better.

She's smiling, not a vicious word leaves her mouth, well except about the Bouvier sisters neither of whom are bothering to visit and the nurses love her. They washed and cut her hair yesterday and she looks ten years younger. The good food is doing wonders for her skin but I think it's more the movement of people in and out of the room all day. Sometimes she goes to the dining room for lunch but not if she's in pain. Yesterday she managed to stand up for a few minutes but it took an effort so the physio's hopeful yet that she might be able to walk a little bit.

I'm walking more than ever and it's killing me. The getting up and down bus steps if it isn't a lowrider is murder. Dragging myself past cake shops is a battle of extreme willpower that I regularly lose. As for the obesity crisis in our teenagers well I can't see how any of them could be overweight carrying those enormous bags on their backs full of school books. I can't believe how heavy they are and I should know since one got plonked on my foot last night. The kids get on the bus, drop the backpacks and immediately straighten up and add 6 inches to their height.

Another week or two and this blog might get back to posting something interesting. Great post coming up about the Hope Diamond, a post that's been 4 weeks in the reading about let alone posting about.

STILL AT THE COAL FACE

Junk, junk and more junk. Throwing out clothes and shoes and bits of this and that. I'll have to have another look into my own de-cluttering after going through my mother's house.

The two bins are full to the brim and I've only gone through the bedroom. The sewing room is a monster waiting to devour my time so roll on 'hard rubbish' collection.

The BrickOutHouse was getting a bit antsy about changing his grandmother's house and moving her things but after today he realises why I'm going about it so thoroughly and so slowly.

Already I've found her pearls tucked away in a tiny purse. And joy, today I found his watches.
The watches, always the watches and what happened to them. His 21st watch, his grandfather's gold watch, which was still ticking away after 15 years and his sapphire and diamond watch from his father. Mum had put them away safely, so safely nobody could find them until today.

I was trying to move some glasses into a corner of the crystal cabinet but they kept getting caught on something I couldn't see in the dark of the hall. And there they were in a pouch in the corner, the darkest corner.

The sapphire faced watch with the four diamonds has a checkered history. In one of my sister's manic throw-outs, the watch went but on the way to the bin, it dropped in the grass. By the time the BOH frantically tried to retrieve his treasures nearly everything was lost. He was lucky to save his stuffed rat. Those damned stuffed rats. The boys used to buy them at the Dingley Market and hang them from the double bunks and they looked disgustingly real. Anyway, the watch was miraculously found, when sister ran over it with the lawnmower. The band was mangled but the face and works were okay.

He has declared he will now look after his precious watches and I'm putting this here as a record that he said that just in case they go missing again and he wants someone to blame.

Just as long as he doesn't put them in the sewing room.