WHERE'S HUBBLE?

This is another great site for you, Link. http://www.n2yo.com

This site merges Google Maps with satellite orbital data to let you track the position of many spacecraft including Hubble.

I hope I can work it better than I can work YouTube.

LETHAL BEAUTY

This was taken from the Age yesterday. It's called a nacreous cloud and like the circumhorizontal arc, very rare but unlike the equally beautiful arc, this is more deadly.

According to Andrew Klekociuk, an atmospheric physicist with the AAD, nacreous clouds are a catalyst that convert chlorofluorocarbons, changing them into forms that can destroy ozone in the presence of sunlight. Nacreous means "mother-of-pearl like".

The clouds form about 20 kilometres up and only when the mercury falls below minus 80 degrees. Weather balloons sent up to the clouds recorded temperatures of minus 87 degrees.

The photographer was Renae Baker, a Bureau of Meteorology officer based at Mawson. At those temperatures I'm happy to just look at her photographs.

CENSUS

Census 2006
Census 2006 happens next Tuesday night right across Australia.There are a couple of important things to consider if you're in a same-sex relationship, especially if you have children. It's all terribly confusing because Federally, our relationships are not recognised at all and non-birth mothers are not legally related to their own children! So, what do we answer for these questions? I've called the Census information line and here's what they've advised.

Question 5: What is the person's relationship to Person 1/Person 2?Definitely tick the De facto partner of Person 1/Person 2. Although we're not recognised Federally as de facto partners, the Census guidelines do include same-sex couples in their de facto definition.

Question 5: What is the person's relationship to Person 1/Person 2? (in relation to children)This one is a little more tricky. The choices you will have to select from in terms of your children are:
Child of both Person 1 and Person 2
Child of Person 1 only
Child of Person 2 only
Brother or sister of Person 1
Unrelated flatmate or co-tenant of Person 1 - please specifyIf you select Child of Person 1 (or 2) only, your family will be counted as being a step-parent family. If you select Child of both Person 1 and Person 2, your family will be counted the same as any other family with two parents.


The above is from a post at http://themuriels.blogspot.com and shows the difficulties of being a same-sex family when bureaucracy is involved.

TRUTH

The first casualty of war is truth.

The second casualty of war is unbiased truth.
Each side or faction has a vested interest in drawing outsiders to their version of events.

The third casualty of war is the door they hide truth behind.
In time truth will tear it apart in order to be heard.

AND I THOUGHT JULY WAS BAD

Today for a birthday treat I let my Mother drive me the rest of the way to insanity. That journey started last night when Jamie won BB06. Nothing against the lad really, I mean he'll probably grow up, find his brain where it fell out of his earhole and hopefully not vote for Howard but my faggot loving self wanted David to win.

Now about me Mummy, the 'let's put it away in a safe spot'phobic. In the last few days I have found two brand new pairs of shoes still in boxes that she didn't remember but she put away in a safe spot. Her wedding and engagement rings in a music box which was okay because the music box was in a safe spot. The anti-biotics disappeared, the bottle labelled, 'do not move from here'(not yet found). The gardner's money in an envelope, labelled 'gardner's money' which was on the mantlepiece ready to be handed to him is now in a safe place (not yet found). The census form has now been recovered from it's safe place ready for Tuesday. I am going to have blood poisoning from the notes on my arm about things that have to be retrieved from their safe places. I'm glad the box of used Christmas cards from 1995 was in a really safe spot.

I haven't got my census form yet. I'm looking forward to having a good read and writing notes to ASIO. A few bloggers this year are deserting The Force and putting down blogging as their religion, a brilliant suggestion. The only thing better would be putting out the census paper as a meme. I hope there's a special section for divorced women to fill out.....name of ex-spouse......name of ex-spouse's tart du jour.

I have my religion ready to go. I am a Thai (there are two schools) buddhist(I'm pissed with the Dalai, he's anti-gay) agnostic, pacifist, naked bloke worshipping (no touching, just looking) High Priestess of the Cult of Blog. I tried to work in my worship of fat foods but I'm saving that in case they ask questions about health.

JULY'S END

HIPPO

BIRDIE

TO ME

RAGING SEA

Isn't this photograph stunning? It's called Port Davey and was taken by Hobart photographer, Geoffrey Lea and won landscape photograph of 2006. I did have it set as wallpaper but it's too powerful to look at that closely. There are other photographs by him at http://www.leatherwoodonline.com which is a marvellous site for all things Tasmanian. While you're there check out the B&B's and the regional recipes and restaurants.

WEIRD COSMIC RAYS

I think we're being bombarded by weird cosmic rays. Or it's just me.

I'm watching two doves going at it while balancing on top of the fence. (jealous. much. on top of a fence.)

The letterbox has cockroaches again, brown ones though, Aussie. The CIA has taken theirs home.

The Rodent is having a birthday. He's ONLY 67. Are they sure about that?

I mean he's been around since the Andes were a footstep.

How dare he have a birthday in my birthday month anyway.

Phillip Ruddick (I know how to spell) wants to censor Television and books, specifically Big Brother and Islamic 'How to bomb yourself to heaven' books. I can't make out which one he thinks is terrorism.

I am officially getting old. I admit it. I used to be able to flip a queen-size mattress with one hand. This morning it took me an hour, a lot a swearing and a seismic event when I finally let it drop.

Are you sure the batsard (I know how to spell) is only 67?

In 33 years he'll be one hundred years old. He'll still be here, I just know it. I bet Captain Smirk does too.

The Jenolan Caves are 340 million years old. I bet he started them off by digging in his sandpit.

Happy Birthday, your gnomeship.

HOMAGE TO HIS LORDSHIP

TREMBLE AT THE TRUE FACE OF SEDGWICK

THE FIVE MEME

Thanks to Ampersand Duck.

IN MY HANDBAG.

What handbag? I have a collection of huge over the shoulder calico bags. I bought the first two from GreenPeace and have replicated them ever since. I have been known to wipe out small children by swinging round too fast with no warning. A Sherpa would have trouble carrying these bags after I've been shopping.
So I have a plastic envelope containing pens and pencils and my hand made dictionary of science terms that I always forget.
Another plastic envelope with bills, scripts, bus timetables, train timetables and various plastic eating items plus sugar quills that fall into my bag at those little coffee places.
Mobile phone, which I'm always forgetting to charge but it's handy for the time since my watch died.
Make-up purse with tiny hair brush, lipgloss and teeny tiny mirror because I don't care to see my entire face in daylight, bits of it will do.
My purse containing the twenty or so cards essential for everyday life plus mum's cards and Power of Attorney so I can use them. Sometimes the purse even has money in it. (not often)

IN MY FRIDGE.
This was good for a chortle and a quick ignore of the swamp in the bottom.
The cat's fresh carton of whole milk.
My carton of uht skim milk because he won't have a bar of it.
Nimbin Cheese
Lovely big fresh apples
Tofu

IN MY CLOSET (how American) WARDROBE (Aussie)
Stash of dress fabrics
Handbags
Covered boxes containing my tiaras and headdresses from strange parties. I'm not kidding, photos were taken and will be posted.
Summer shoes neatly stacked in the shoe container. (winter shoes all over the bedroom)
Dresses, winter up one end, summer up the other and autumn/spring collection in the middle.
My cupboards are the only tidy things in this house. I've had seagulls walk in through the front door looking for the tip.

IN MY BATHROOM CABINET.
BandAids, lots. Never buy the clear ones, you can never see to peel the buggers off. Glow in the dark ones are fun except if you forget and look at your foot in the dark.
Betadine antiseptic. I decant it from 44 gallon drums. It works, true dinks, I haven't lost a limb yet.
Dead toothbrushes. Well for 95 cents they don't last forever but I just can't throw them away. They are great for cleaning the tile grout when I get to it, sometime in the next year or two.
Clarins face creams. I have a permanent lay-by at my chemist for these when the specials come out. I'd like to say I look like Linda Evangalista but I'd be struck by lightning for a lie that big.
Hair Dye or rather colour enhancement for my NATURAL colour and it's been so long since I saw my natural colour this really could be my NATURAL copper hair colour.

IN MY CAR. damn don't have one. IN MY CARPORT.
Four car tyres, no car.
Six potted plants, one living.
Twelve assorted gardening implements, rusty.
One garden refuse bin, empty. (I'll fill it in spring)
Big branches, cut off the citrus trees. I'm telling everyone it's a scientific experiment. (I'll get rid of them in the spring)

I hate these sort of memes. I usually have a blind spot about things that aren't fixed up around the house and now they're hitting me in the face everywhere I look. It will take a tremendous effort but I will resist the temptation to leave the computer and actually do housework.

THE BURMA BULLIES

"Malaysia's foreign minister, Syed Hamid Albar, the chairman of the Association of South-East Asian Nations (Asean), said the group's fortunes were being held hostage by Burma, which has refused to initiate a transition to democracy despite repeated pledges to do so.
"Asean now has reached a stage where it is not possible to defend its member when that member is not making an attempt to cooperate," Mr Syed Hamid said at a conference of Asean legislators."


I can't see China or India taking much notice of this considering their investments in Burma but it's worth bringing the Junta to the world's attention. There is a dirty list of companies that invest or operate in Burma including Travel Agencies. A lot of the tourist accommodation was built by child slave labour and Burmese activists have asked that tourists not visit the country and contribute to the Junta's deep pockets. The Junta also controls the heroin trade and the gem mines. Don't buy Burmese rubies.

I am in two minds about the tourist trade however. If you're going to sit in an exclusive resort and never venture out except in convoy with the other exclusive resort visitors then I'd suggest you stay home. But if you're able to wander around the country and talk, with discretion, to the Burmese people then by all means go. Have a good look around, talk to students, people in the street, in the villages then bring the stories back. This country is so closed that offers of help during the aftermath of the tsunami were rejected. As always, in countries like Burma, don't act the ugly Australian abroad.

DINO BLOGGING

You can keep your cat and dog blogging, I've got a dinosaur and he's Australian. Meet Umoonasaurus who swam in the inland sea of Australia abut 115 million years ago. He belonged to a group of meat-eating marine animals known as plesiosaurs.

This new species has been identified using fossils of 30 individuals including seven partial skeletons. Some from old collections and recent excavations.

The best thing about these fossils is that a lot of the material is found in opal mines and the fossils have been opalized into beautiful greens and blues.

He's been named after Umoona, the aboriginal name for the South Australia region where the most complete Umoonasaurus skeleton was found complete with a gut full of small fish.

He's not pretty and I can't quite put my finger on who he reminds me of, someone in Parliament, I'm sure it'll come to me.

ANGEL THOUGHTS

I have been listening to some tapes on loan from my sister. My sister, the gambling, drinking and swearing sister. She believes in Angels. She despises religion, can't be bothered wondering if there's a God, unless he's the God of Horseracing but she believes in Angels.

She says it's a fairly recent thing. Thirty years of nursing, mostly older people, has led her to a point where she can't explain some of her experiences in scientific terms. So she began to study the phenomenon of Angels and why they feature in every major religion. Every belief system has it's beings of light and darkness even if they're not called Angels.

According to this latest Angel tape, we don't just have one to help us, we have a mob of them. We might have one particular guide for the every day stuff but for the big decisions we can be surrounded by a think tank of waving ethereal winged beings. They are there to guide us when we ask, to gently nudge us in the right direction if we're undecided.

This is all too much lightness for my dark celtic soul. So I've given my lot the weekend off. I've told half of them to go and wrap their wings around children in peril. The other half have really got their work cut out. Their job is to sit on the shoulders of the so-called leaders of the world and whisper constantly, you are only mortal, don't presume to be anything greater.

Good Luck, Angels.

COLD ITEM AND DUMB ITEM

Melbourne's Friday chill
Coldsteam -4.3
Avalon -2.1
Essendon -1.8
Laverton -1.6
Moorabbin -1.6
Tullamarine Airport 0.2

And this is why I was putting on a snowsuit to run to the toilet this morning. It's supposed to be raining, you know, winter and all. Gale force winds, a bit of hail, thunderstorms but freezing my bum off to have a, let's go all aussie here, snake's hiss is a bit much. Even now I'm sitting here wearing two dressing gowns and a cloak, sox and slippers. I didn't remember being this cold last year but then last year I had a cat in the study and I kept the oil heater thing on for him. I did think of getting it out for me then I remembered the bill when it came in. Dressing gowns are cheaper.

I have a Google alert for Australian Synchrotron developments and last week the synchrotron had its 'first light' run which means that every thing is aligned and functioning perfectly so the last two paragraphs of the alert were as follows:

Overseas researchers have used synchrotron technology in producing designer medicines, creating flat screen computers and extending the life of jet engines.
It also has been recruited for more humble applications in developing smoother chocolate and more absorbent disposable nappies.

Smoother chocolate and disposable nappies, nothing about looking into a single living blood cell or recording the reaction of a microscopic alga when exposed to UV rays or finding a single cancer cell before it multiplies. No wonder kids aren't interested in science these days and why people can be convinced by politicians of the other side that it's a waste of money by the Bracks Government.

On the home front, there is a tomcat roaming the street. It has sprayed up the front door and up the back door and all over the stupid old dill that should have known better than to go out and try to chase it away. That's the cat not me, in case you were wondering. He has the cheek to look at me as though I'm the one on the nose. I have tried to bath him once, a long time ago and I won't be repeating that in a hurry. I still have the scars so he'll have to wash himself.

I have two new blogs for you to visit. http://madsheilamusings.blogspot.com and http://meiultravires.blogspot.com. The first is a feminist writer out west and I love what she'd like to do to men using a barnacle loofah. The second blog is written by a working mother with the strange hobby of chasing scrub turkeys, of course she's from Queensland. Go and enjoy them.

ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

Sorry I'm not that kind of a blogger. I can't write about the killing of children. I don't care what nationality they are, they're children and they are dying. I've left comments around various blogs and that's as much as I can write. So I'll just ignore the elephant in the room that is the tragedy of the Middle East.

I am puzzled about this division between the Left and Right of politics. As I understand, the lefties are sooks and tree huggers, the righties are strong and patriotic. Stupid me, I thought we were all human beings.

I am equally as puzzled about the division between believers in God and non-believers in God. Why does it matter? The believers and the non-believers can and do kill each other. There seems to me to be as many 'Gods' as there are non-'Gods' in their strange belief systems.

While I'm puzzling, I might as well ask why loving a person of the same sex as oneself is considered not normal or evil or disgusting by lefties, righties, god-believers and non-believers?

I might as well throw this in too. Why aren't I built like Elle Mcpherson on the outside when I have the same body structure on the inside?

Perhaps life's puzzles weren't meant to be easy.

I LOVE ME A PIRATE

After the disappointment of the DaVinci Code I wondered if the Pirates would be the same but I have to say I enjoyed every minute of it. I forgot about war and politics for the afternoon and relaxed with my feet up. I'm looking forward to the third instalment with Capn Jack Sparrow.
If Keira Knightly says she doesn't have an eating problem then she should go back and have a look at this film. The girl looks rounded, almost, and healthy not the scarecrow that's been parading on the red carpet lately.

Actually the film took me right back to the Saturday arvo pictures. My sister and I would walk nearly 3 miles across paddocks and roads to get to the theatre. Something that would give mothers and fathers nightmares about now. Nothing like a two tier picture theatre filled with screaming, fighting and Jaffa throwing kids, makes a soccer match look like kindergarten.

The walk used to terrify me as we would have to go through a huge paddock that had horses. My sister loved horses, I didn't. She would wait until I was in the middle of nowhere and then she would call them. Of course, they always came for her, through me.

I didn't like the realism of movies on the big screen. Even now I can remember scenes that terrified me and I hated the Three Stooges. They pulled the beautiful theatre down and built a petrol station then they pulled down the petrol station and made a road.

WHAT'S SLEEP?

This is the sweet little cat. He's sleeping on a feather cushion. He's shedding fur on an expensive mohair rug. He's letting you see two of the eleven tennis balls he has hidden behind his bed. What I can't show you or let you hear is the sight and sound of this mongrel moggie projectile vomiting cat bikkies and fur balls at 4 o'clock this morning.

I didn't get to sleep until after 3. One of those nights where nothing was comfortable and I tossed and turned but finally drifted off until that sound. I flew out of bed and opened the back door, hoping against hope that he'd make it. He was in the kitchen by now, hacking up the last fur piece so a quick look at the carpet in the lounge, all clear. Great, just the kitchen so I'll clean it up in the morning.

I go back to bed, drift off again but I need a pee. Stagger out of bed again. I never put a light on, it wakes me up too much. Bad luck this time as I put my foot squarely in the pile of regurgitated whiskettes just outside the toilet door. I can't tell you how happy I was to see it was only this when I did turn the light on, I mean it could have been a lot worse but not much. The creature has been down behind the couch all day where I can't reach him except with a 12 bore.

It's turned me off cooking for the day. I was going to make scones because I have a bottle of black cherry jam or fruit spread because it has no sugar in it. The brand is French, Charles Jacquin and I usually buy the rasberry but Safeway looks as though it's selling out the brand. I found the black cherry by chance when a little old lady (I'm a magnet for them) asked me to go to the bottom shelf for some Homebrand rubbish and there was a cache of Jacquin. These little old ladies will drive me to drink, if it's not something on the tenth shelf below the ceiling, it's something they want from the floor area. Usually I try to buy Australian but in this case Jacquin's is the best of the best. While I was on the floor Ron, I did make a quick check of the Rose's marmalade, no luck for you. Now I'm not making scones.

Tomorrow I am going to see Pirates courtesy of pissed sister who put the wrong number on the Tote ticket and got the daily double, again. She sees it as divine intervention and sends me off to loll around enjoying myself in Goldclass. So next payday I won't have to make one of those difficult decisions, food or frivolity.

I haven't forgotten the seriousness of the world either. A very big "Up Yours" to world renowned obstetrician Michel Odent who told a British conference that a caesarean section birth interferes with the natural production and release of the hormone oxytocin which helps a woman "fall in love" with her child. This jeopardises their chances of bonding with their babies.

Thank you for the guilt trip, you twerp. Not all of us elect to have caesarean births, sometimes it's an emergency and we get enough crap from midwives and other mothers without some bloke handing out another reason to cringe. I don't like babies, they might as well be alien creatures to me. I hate people who hand me one because they cry when they see me. My own bawled every time I looked at him. You couldn't have bonded us with superglue. I get along fine with teenagers. I even manage them as kids as soon as they can talk and use a knife and fork, up until then, forget the bonding. It had nothing to do with the Caesar, it would have been the same if I had spent the time pushing him out, some of us just don't bond with the little squawkers, so there Mr. Obstetrician.

I must be one of the weird mothers though, every year older he got, I loved him more. A kind of reverse bonding. What do men know!

BASTILLE DAY

To celebrate Bastille Day let's have some FrouFrou. Will you just look at those green eyes! I can't post the entire face, I'd be arrested, he looks too young for me to drool over. But I have ordered those eyes in a grey haired slightly more mature piece of crumpet for my birthday or Christmas, whenever he arrives.

Good old Bastille Day. Vive la Revolution. The clack of knitting needles. The clunk of falling heads. The drums of social war. The rich hiding out. The poor trying to find them. The inevitable rise of one maggot after the other til the ubermaggot, Napoleon does them all in. He could a bin a contender for sainthood but he'd rather go to war. Then he dies. History 101 in a nutshell. The more things change the more they remain the same.

Much better to concentrate on the FrouFrou with green eyes.

ISN'T IT SOME FRENCH DAY?

Another week older and my worry lines are beginning to look like anxiety crevases.

I am staying in bed tomorrow, I mean today, with several books which I have gathered up from all over the house. I'm halfway through most of them but they're not that interesting or maybe my concentration flags easily these days.

I have taken over Mum's finances, shopping, medications and putting the rubbish bin out. I can now sign her cheques and generally fritter away her generous pension. I can tear up begging letters which sucker her in every time and especially tear up letters from the credit card bastards who tell her she's pre-approved for another $5,000 credit even though they know from her bank account that she's a pensioner.

I get to go through the pantry and re-arrange the shelves. The Brick Outhouse, being 6'4" uses the top shelf, M, being 4'11" uses the middle shelf. He doesn't look down, she can't look up. This means identical packets of everything being opened on two shelves. He can see the back of the shelves, she can only see the front. Neither look at use by dates. I don't know how they haven't died of food poisoning as some of the use bys, way at the back, are from last century. It's the same with the fridge and the freezer. I want a knighthood for the person who invents a freezer that answers when you ask "What's dying of frostbite in the left hand corner under the four opened packets of peas?" The freezer is now full of food, so it's freshly frozen food but it's this week's freshly frozen food. All nourishing, so what does she have for tea, three party pies.

I would like to bury, up to their necks in Maralinga sand, whoever decided to wrap stupid little thin pieces of cheese in plastic wrap that is impossible to open without a microscope. For company, I will put with them them, the fool who invented tri-pillows. The woman has five pillows on the bed and on top, a tri-pillow. Trying to put a cover on this is like wrestling with an anaconda. It doesn't matter what size the cover is, the pillow expands to fill it. Just for fun, I also get to iron the damn covers and I swear she has a dozen of them.

I really need tomorrow to recharge and to let the wildlife know I'm back. Lazy cat was so warm by the fire tonight that he only gave a passing glance at the two possums that were eating his cat biscuits in the kitchen. I had to get up and hoof them out. My fault, of course, I haven't been putting out their apples and bread so they've decided to eat in. It's 2.30 in the morning and now he decides to go out and patrol the yard and he'll come in and want the bowl filled.

Well that post is done, in my mind I've just written a witty and insightful disection of the political scene in Canberra so I can't help it if you're reading drivel.

CYBERSEX

First we have an online game called Second Life. The game provides the software tools to design 3D avatars. The players can then write their own programme to create their own unique character, unique hair, clothing style, cars, boats, you name it. (That's me up there ruling my own world) But some gamers are using the the tools to add genitalia and erotic outfits for engaging in cybersex. After setting yourself up with the outfits etc. then you have to find a willing partner within Second Life's sex rooms. You can't just barge in, strangers aren't exactly welcomed even when you do find the sex rooms. Once in the virtual sex world the gamers can explore sex and fantasies which they wouldn't do in the real world. It sounds great to me, sitting at home with a shot of vodka, hair in curlers and a comfy dressing gown and indulging in 3D cybersex with someone 4000 miles away.

It didn't take long before games developers teamed up with the pr0n industry and released erotic multiplayer online games, like Red Light Centre. These games are sex oriented to appeal to players who don't know or don't have the time to create an erotic character and sex is online from the moment they sign up. The sex here stays inside the game. But a new game, Naughty America will tie cybersex to online dating. Subscribers fill in a questionnaire to set them up with suitable people and they'll use the cybersex game before meeting in real life. (My skin is crawling now)

In Second Life everything is created by the gamers and it is a second life away from reality so sex is not an official part of the game. The players like this aspect, a sort of forbidden fruit as it were which is more spontaneous than going straight into a sex oriented game.

Ren Reynolds, is a UK-based virtual world consultant and player of Second Life who says if you can get the obsessive passions of sex and game playing right, you can make a fortune.

That's what stopped me from investigating this cyber world, the cost. If I had that much money to have fun, I'd be running a permanent grogblogging floating party, better than sex.

THE QUESTION

Some human beings will fight and kill each other to grab the last breath of oxygen left on earth.

Some human beings will share that last breath of oxygen.

You can throw all your philosophical, theology and metaphysical questions off the highest mountain.

It doesn't matter how we live with religion or without because we all die the same way: we stop breathing.

There is only one question............

Are you a grabber or a sharer?

SNOOPS

NEW SCIENTIST...JUNE

"I am continually shocked and appalled at the details people voluntarily post online about themselves." So says Jon Callas, chief security officer at PGP, a Silicon Valley-based maker of encryption solftware. He is far from alone in noticing that fast-growing social networking websites such as MySpace and Friendster are a snoop's dream.

New Scientist has discovered that Pentagon's National Security Agency, which specialises in eavesdropping and code-breaking, is funding research into the mass harvesting of the information that people post about themselves on social networks. And it could harness advances in internet technology - specifically the forthcoming "semantic web" championed by the web standards organisation W3C - to combine data from social networking websites with details such as banking, retail and property records, allowing the NSA to build extensive, all-embracing personal profile of individuals.

I've seen MySpace and Friendster and if that doesn't rot the brains of the NSA, they didn't have any to start with but it shows how little the U.S. Intelligence agencies care about the Constitution they're supposed to be protecting. New Scientist doesn't say if England or Australia are moving along the same lines but since they're always 2 inches behind America, it wouldn't surprise me. I should make it easy for them. John Howard is a lying snivelling little troll who leads a diverse group of other trolls, goblins and bootlickers. When you come to get me ASIO, knock first I sleep au naturale.

I'm probably on the list anyway, I come from a long list of horsestealers and sheepknappers. The horse stealing side of the family is having a reunion and they want me to come. I had to decline, it's my day for having bamboo slivers jammed under my fingernails and the excitement of two big events in twenty-four hours would be too much for me. Besides I have this thing about being in a room with people who haven't enough brains to give themselves a headache.

Anyhow I have a computer to socialize with, I don't get germs that way. Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean my fellow bloggers, I meant normal people who have germs. I found out today that there is a new entry for the dictionary. I am officially a 'mouse potato', one who spends a great deal of time using a computer. It's better than meeting family.

SHE'S BACK......AGAIN

I'm back on pill duty except this time I'm doing it with colours. The first phone call of the morning goes something like...."I can't quite get the pills again." Me...."Take the fat pink one, the round orange one, the round white one and the two colours of green long one".....as I listen to fumble, fumble and counting. "I take the four at once with water, dear?" Dear resists temptation to say hemlock and listens while Mum takes them. All clear and the phone goes clunk. She rings back, "Did I hang up on you or did you hang up on me?" The day is looking good.

The bad news is it seems to be catching. I stood in front of the ATM and couldn't remember one digit of the pin number I've been using for fifteen years. I walked inside the bank and got a new one, it was easier. I can remember her 7 pin numbers and passwords and medical history back to 1975 but my four number pin is gone forever.

It's the doctors' opinion that this is acute brain syndrome, an after effect of the UTI which was much more severe than we thought. It should clear up within 2 to 3 weeks but for that remaining time she'll still have psychotic episodes but nowhere as bad as last week. The poison from this type of infection especially where the immune system is shot goes right through the body until it hits the brain. I'm beginning to wonder how many older people, in the past, have been diagnosed with dementia instead of this and gone untreated until they were quite delusional.

I'll whisper this very quietly so the gods won't hear, things are going along well for a change. Even Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire DVD was on special for half price as was the lst season of Firefly. Now we'll see how long the average fat person can live on baked beans and fresh air.

AT LAST, THE PORTRAIT

At last, a portrait that shows the world the true face of Copperwitch. Lord, will someone remind me to cut my toenails and do I need a dye job on the tresses but all in all, a fetching likeness.

Can't for the life of me remember what Costello was begging for but I should have used the sword when I had the chance.

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!

This is Mum and her great granddaughters taken at Easter when we started the Merry-go-round.

This morning was the usual 20 minutes of pill taking instructions and she toddled off to have breakfast. Fast forward one hour when I arrive to find her sitting on her bed with a huge box of weetbix and a carton of milk. She says there's something wrong with the bowl because she can't see where the milk has gone, by bowl, she means the box which has a spoon in it. This can't be good and it isn't. I get her into the lounge room where it's warm but she can't sit in her chair because she can't remember which way to move. She can't drink her tea because she can't remember what to do with the cup. This is way beyond even a UTI infection type confusion.

I've just spent eight hours in emergency with her. She's had a brain scan, blood tests, urine tests, memory tests, co-ordination tests. The only thing they can find is slightly elevated white blood cells and a slight excess of liver enzymes. Everything else is clear, even the cut has healed completely. Nurses and doctors would wander by and ask questions. Sometimes the answer would be coherant, other times she wouldn't remember what was asked. At one stage the doctor asked if she knew who the Prime Minister was, "That thing Howard," she answered. The doctor asked who would she prefer to be Prime Minister, "Anyone but him," she said.

She's been admitted for observation. The doctor's opinion is that there is definitely something radically wrong but as yet it hasn't shown up in the ordinary tests. So she's safe for the moment. I don't have to worry about burning toast or the microwave blowing up.

She had a student doctor who asked about her previous medical history so I handed him the list. He will really have to learn to keep a poker face. Mum wanted to know why he was wearing a party hat, need I say he was Jewish. She wasn't asleep when I left but she looked very comfortable.

I walked into my sister's place and downed a can of Smirnoff Black before I realized what it was. I can't believe I can see this screen since that would usually wipe me out. I wish I had another can now, in fact I think I'll give up healthy living, it only lets you get older. I wish I could kick Aunt Selma in her bad knee. My sister has already dealt with Aunt Patty and with great delight.
I don't like this year, I want another one.

IT'S JULY

I didn't realize it was July, one of you could have pointed it out. It's the month I turn another year older and two days of it gone already.

So we have the earthquake report for June. Another 15 earthquakes for Australia and one in Victoria, west of Darriman. It was 13 kms underground and measure 3.2 on the Richter Scale. If that's anywhere near Bacchus Marsh it's only Brownie moving house.

The Basil Fawlty method of Television repair has worked and I have kicked it into life. Yea for Inspector Jericho. It had better keep going because 7 has started Stargate again with no publicity at the usual stupid hour which means I have to tape it.

Winter has started too. It's freezing, raining, cold and I have to get the cat outside with the aid of a shovel. When's spring?

SUNDAY ALREADY?

Where did that seven days go? I know where the apples I cooked went, absolutely nowhere. After re-reading about them in that other post, I realized I hadn't eaten them so where were they? Still in the pot on the stove, brilliant but the possums had a lovely time with them last night.

I woke up with a headache which got worse taking 20 minutes to get Mum to take her pills. When I finally went to get out of bed I thought I might have had a slight stroke. One eye was unfocused and blurry. Mystery was solved when I put my hand up and nearly poked my eye out, the lens is now back in my glasses.

My sister and I compared notes and we are now working on the assumption that Mum is having anxiety attacks which can cause a distortion of memory. Her long term memory is fine so what she couldn't remember yesterday, she can remember today. She has anti-anxiety medication so we'll give her that for a week to see if there's any improvement. For anyone out there who thinks we're doing this on our own, we're not. These are things that she has been through before and recovered so there is a record. I even thought that it might be a form of post traumatic stress disorder since she was diagnosed and operated on so quickly that she might not have had time to come to terms with the cancer or the mastectomy. But it appears her mind is just a little behind on processing information. Like I said what she didn't remember yesterday, she could repeat to my sister today.

In a post a long long time ago, I said that Andrew Olexander was an idiot and I'm not taking that back. He said he was ousted from the Liberal party for being gay and was on the way to putting forward a private members bill for civil unions in Victoria. The papers had a great time with the fact that he has put his lover on the payroll and tax payers are footing the bill. The lover's wife of 27 years was shocked at him having an affair and devastated that it was with a man. So, far from doing some good for the gay community, he's now handing the fundies another opportunity to carry on about depraved gays and how they seduce good married men to their cause.

I have never been a fan of Big Brother but I would have watched tonight to see how Gretal tells all about the eviction of John and Ashley. Of all the times for the TV to blow a fuse it had to be now and not even a good kicking brought it to it's senses. I'll try again later because I would hate to miss Inspector Jericho on the ABC, a real pleasure on a Sunday night.

ADVICE WELCOME

The anti-biotics have done their job, urine is clear of infection, acute looney stage is over and even the stitches have dissolved. All good news, I wish. Mum's short term memory is all but shot. She can't remember having lunch or when to take her tablets even with me writing the time on a sheet. She's doing things two or three times because she can't remember doing them the first time. She's had a colostomy for 17 years and it's always been a barometer as to how well she is as that's the first thing she always does for herself after any illness but this afternoon she forgot how to put the bag on properly. She has always been a whizz with the phone banking system, much better than I handle it but yesterday she got really upset because they wouldn't let her call through, she had forgotten what a hash key was.

This is not the same as last week because she knows her memory has gone and it's upsetting her but only when she thinks of it and then it's gone again. For the next two weeks I will have to write down everything that she forgets, what her mood is and how long she remembers something. We have no idea if it is the cancer or the amount of medication or trauma from the surgery that's just surfacing now. My sister and I are giving her the two weeks before we have to start with the assessment system and that's not something we are looking forward to. We don't want decisions taken out of our hands and we don't want her to think we are shoving her off to some dodgy nursing home. The ideal way would be to convince her to go into respite care for a few days and be observed but I think she would resist this until she lost any resemblance of independence.

This is so hard but at the moment I can physically look after her because she can still shower herself even though I'm the one on the bottom with the towell drying her feet. That's another thing, because I'm always at the back with the towell I hadn't noticed her side on but today she turned and I was stunned at how much more weight she has dropped. She feels safe at home and she's comfortable so it's just a matter of how long I can manage. It's not fair because she's only 76 and should have more time but then I think of all those little kids dealing with this and that's not fair, at least she's had a good longish life. It is so different from my father with his cancer because he was with it right to the minute of his death. He drove his car swigging on a bottle of morphine and only gave up driving when he had no strength to use the brakes. He could have had morphine injections but he wanted his mind to be clear for as long as possible. Mum doesn't seem to have had a choice. Sorry to be so gloomy but that's what a blog is for and now that it's out in cyberspace maybe I'll be able to deal with it better.

Just to make you worry about my sanity. My father has been with us, in spirit, since this all began. There are portraits on the wall of me and my sister which have been there since we were seventeen. My picture has begun to click. The first time, my sister remarked that spirits always do that when they want to get our attention, so we laughed and asked Dad what he wanted. Check on Mum was the first thought and we found she had almost fallen out of bed. While not a strong believer, when that picture clicks, I check. My sister had a few words the other night, and propped down in front of her portrait and referred to that bloody old bat to be answered, not by a click but an almighty crack which made us both jump. She's decided to keep remarks to a inaudible muttering from now on. We could put this down to the cold or the fire being on or several other things but in all these years we've never had clicks and never a crack.

48 HOURS

I haven't had a lot of sleep in the last 48 hours. Another crisis and probably not the last. I can do almost any kind of nursing, blood, guts, stitches but not lunacy. Anyone who looks after patients with Alzheimer's or dementia has my admiration. We have so many things to look for with Mum these days, that a headache was looked at as just a side affect of the cancer drugs. The urinary tract infection took us by surprise and once again we missed the signs creeping up on her.

I've been through UTI's with my mother-in-law and I never thought I would have to deal with that again. My poor M-in-L talked to people who weren't there and she talked non-stop for days, whole conversations which were lucid in their detail but with phantom beings. When she was moved, she was terrified because she couldn't tell which was floor or ceiling and thought she was falling. On the worst day before the anti-biotics began to work, I sat with her for 12 hours listening to this terrible raving but every now and then, she would touch me and ask if I was real. Then she would sleep a little before it started again.

It's a terrrible thing to go through, knowing that what you are doing is quite wrong but unable to do anything to stop it. Usually the infection is well entrenched before the mental symptoms begin and I would say now that Mum's probably started on Saturday or possibly Friday. By Monday night, she frightened the Brick Outhouse by trying to put a cup through the microwave door because she thought it was already open. She couldn't remember how to get back into bed even with him helping.

Thank goodness for a family doctor who still makes house calls because she was too terrified to leave the house. She was dazed and incoherant. We had to take away all her pills and constantly tell her where she was. At one stage I found her with the phone in her walker and the receiver on the bedside table and trying to answer the radio. The hard part was hearing her being lucid but having the next sentence completely loopy. We had to double dose the anti-biotics yesterday which meant staying until the early hours and bless the Outhouse, he set the alarm so he could take me home.

She was a long way better today but it was a constant battle to juggle the tablets so they didn't clash. Trying to keep track was driving me crazy so I can see how she lost control of them. The headache is gone, the confusion was down to one loopy every two hours or so and she knew enough to swear at Aunt Patty who suggested that a district nurse could do better than 'her girls'. She also got pissed off at Aunt Selma who says she has no pain in her knee and feels wonderful. She was lucid enough to read the letter from the Government telling her she was getting a one off $100 payment to help with expenses. "Bugger expenses," she said, "I'll have that DVD set from the ABC shop." She then asked me who the visitor was as she looked at the bedroom chair with her shawl draped on it.

So it's back to every day visits for another week or so. We'll test the urine every 3 days to keep an eye on it. The wound cut has almost closed except for a tiny bit where there is a dissolving stitch that hasn't dissolved. We just keep adding to the list of things to watch as there will be other signs of the body breaking down. We can't keep ahead of them because we can't tell what will be the next to go. It's a waiting game and we just have to play it.

SUNDAY SNIPPETS

I wasn't going to post today because I couldn't find anything interesting in the paper but I did get a spam email that I had to share with you all........

"Rock hard manhood, multiple explosions and several times more semen volume delivered to my door, low cost and fast."

As tempted as I am to reply and say yes, send, and does it come with green eyes, I think some of the blurb got deleted along the way. (Ron, drooling is so unattractive)

There was something about free will and whales. Humans have free will and don't have to eat whales, they can become vegetarians. Vegetarians have free will and can become vegans. Whales don't know what free will is and eat krill, toothed whales eat fish, Orca eat seals. Krill are voracious little beggars and chow down on plankton. Free will means I can make a choice, animals can't. If the whales were being caught to feed a starving nation, then I would have to make a choice to support it but these whales are destined for the wealthy only so I choose not to support full scale whaling. As for saving the krill, one day we might have to do just that. Salmon farmers give the fish a dye to get the salmon colour they would naturally get by eating krill. If the farmers work out that it's cheaper to grab krill then look out.

Mindless ramble through my head over.

Tonight on 60 Minutes, they have a story on same-sex marriage in Canada. The couples interviewed are Australian, one half of the first couple is the now convenor of Australian Marriage Equality. The other couple is Matthew Culleton and Luke Gahan who was the first convenor of AME. Watch the show and tell me how these four men are going to bring down our so-called wonderful heterosexual institution of marriage. It's not about sex, it's about love and commitment.

On the home front, I made a quiche and cut my finger on the processor blade, fortunately it was not going at the time. Whizzing sharp things and me do not go well together. (or is it I, blood loss mistake) My soup is the best tasting this winter even with the wrong pasta in it. I picked up a packet of calcium enriched, especially for kids, teddy bear pasta shapes, result, delicious. (Hi Gerry) I'm now going out to cook Granny Smith apples with cinnamon bark and shredded lemon zest and strongly resist the temptation to put a ginger sponge topping on them.

RAINBOW

This is gorgeous and rare. It's called a circumhorizontal arc and it's caused by light passing through high altitude Cirrus clouds. The sight occurs only when the sun is very high in the sky, more than 58 degrees above the horizon. The hexagonal ice crystals that make up Cirrus clouds must be shaped like thick plates with their faces parallel to the ground.

When light enters through a vertical side face of such an ice crystal and leaves from the bottom face it bends, in the same way that light passes through a prism. If the crystals in the Cirrus clouds are just right the clouds light up in the colour spectrum.

This was photographed on June 6 in the sky over northern Idaho near the Washington State border.

WAR GAMES

Sea Lions and Dolphins May Join War Games
By The Associated Pressposted: 23 June 200609:16 am ET

HONOLULU (AP)—Alongside the submarines, ships and airplanes participating in large-scale military exercises in the Pacific this month, a team of sea lions and dolphins are expected to patrol the sea.
These marine animals will be flown in from San Diego for simulated mine recovery and mine detection during the biennial RIMPAC war games.
Six bottle-nosed dolphins would find the mines, while four California sea lions would help recover them.
"There are a number of mechanical systems that work to some degree in those areas, but not as well as the Navy would like them to work,'' said Tom Lapuzza, spokesman for the Navy's Marine Mammal Program. "Unmanned vehicles are becoming better at finding mines and being able to deal with them, but they are still not as good as the dolphins are.''
More than 40 ships, six submarines, 160 aircraft and nearly 19,000 military personnel are taking part in RIMPAC 2006, which runs from Monday through July 28.
It brings together military forces from Australia, Canada, Chile, Peru, Japan, the Republic of Korea, the United Kingdom and the United States for training off Hawaii.
But the high-tech gadgets deployed by the military can't match the natural skills of the dolphins and sea lions, Lapuzza said.
Sea lions have "incredibly good underwater hearing'' and can dive to 1,000 feet to attach a recovery line to a simulated mine, he said. Dolphins use their sonar to find the mines.
"For sure the divers and unmanned vehicles are going,'' he said. "They are thinking about taking dolphins, but are not sure they are going to do that yet.''
Opponents of the program say the military should not train animals for use in warfare.
"These animals are highly sensitive, deeply intelligent creatures, and to use them for warfare is to abuse them,'' said Wayne Johnson, who is on the board of Animal Rights Hawaii. "These animals need to swim free.''
Marine mammals have been used by the Navy since the early 1960s.
The animals save the Navy an estimated $1 million a year, Lapuzza said.
The $15 million Marine Mammal Program has 75 dolphins and 30 sea lions at its San Diego facility.
The four sea lions will be transported to Hawaii in cages with pools of water, and dolphins are carried in 10-foot-long fiberglass boxes suspended in a sling and enough water to enable them to float, Lapuzza said.

If the animals are so good at this retrieval why can't we find a peaceful use for them. What stops them from heading for freedom in the open ocean? After all they're conscripts, not volunteers.

FRIDAY CAT AND DOG BLOGGING

I've been putting away photographs for Mum but this one I had to put up. That is a very fat corgi and one enormous cat called Charles Amadaeus Mozart B. He didn't start out this way but had an appetite for food that transcended gluttony. One of Mum's neighbours came over and complained that he was bailing up his dog and stealing the food out of his dish. Not a small dog either but a Collie. Charles began to get a stomach that needed wheels and after one of his food forays, fell from the top of a six foot fence and started a vet bill that rivalled the national debt. I have another set of photos somewhere showing him ambushing my small granddaughter, boosting a cupcake straight from her hand and walking away with it in his mouth, paper and all.

Because the children were so young when they left for Queensland, I kept in touch by writing stories about the cat. He started as he was, a fat selfish glutton but ended his days as the Captain's cat on the Queen Elizabeth 11. I can't draw to save myself so all the illustrations were fabric collages or cut out pictures from that grandmother's mainstay, the Franklin Mint Catalogue. The stories still exist, their other grandmother has kept everything I've sent them and I'm glad because I'd never be able to duplicate all that work. I even invented a family tree for Charles right back into fantasy land when the bush fairies collected cat fur to make covers for their beds in winter. I must have had far too much time on my hands because for that, I pulled apart a length of wool and knitted a cover on a pair of wooden toothpicks. The things we do for a story.

Mum has a little over two weeks to go before a visit to the oncology clinic and everything is going well. The opening along the wound cut is back to about 5mm from 30mm and the doctor was very pleased with her yesterday. She decided to have a shower by herself today, while I was in the house but that didn't go to plan. She got in the shower okay but no water. Someone has leaned over the fence and turned the water meter off so I'm outside in the cold wrestling with the tap and she's inside trying to wash in what was left in the hot water jug. She's so confident now that she told me to have the weekend home. If I could just remember what to do with a weekend home.

AUTUMN STUFF

This should be a winter’s day but it’s more like autumn so I’ve been out in the garden making the Council’s life easy for them. Cut the branches into even lengths and tie them with cotton string, no nasty nylon or wire, put them out for collection and make sure the pointy ends go towards the path. The bundles mustn’t be too big and I have to count them before I ring up the depot. This takes me about two weeks, it takes a council worker, built like a wharfie, two minutes to throw them in the chomper.

Last year I had the Brick Outhouse cut down the huge Blue Spruce. There is no way you can tie up those sorts of branches so he hauled them out to the nature strip and piled them up. I also had branches from the Golden Elm, Sycamore and Acer trees. Then the fun started. It was how many bundles….none. Then we can’t have our workers come and pick them up. It’s a one off, it won’t be like this next year, the trees have been cut down. NO, we need bundles.

I dug my heels in and said they could stay out there until they rotted. Enter sniffy neighbour who rang up on my behalf to say how decrepit I was and how much help I needed. Thank you for nothing, sniffy neighbour. One Council department came out and photographed the pile but forgot to tell its companion department who also sent a photographer. The next call was to tell me how much I would be fined if the nature strip wasn’t cleared in three days. Right said Fred and I was up the next morning at 6 o’clock, on a day much like today fortunately. It took me five hours to drag branches back under the car park and bundle up what others were small enough. Thank you to all the crappy neighbours who drove past.

I had managed to save up enough money to have a plumber come and fix the bathroom taps but that now went to the man who came and removed the debris and finished cutting the trees down to stumps. He was worth the money, clearing everything even to sweeping up the pine needles. One day later, the first Council department rang and said they’d reviewed my situation and would pick up the branches for this year. This was one month after the first photograph had been taken by the first department.

I should have taken an I.O.U. because I have a carport full of citrus trees. Why do branches always look small on the tree but fill the yard when they’re chopped? They’re heavier on the ground so I had to tie a rope to each one and pull it across the lawn (lawn?) to the carport otherwise the mower man will have hysterics and just go round the piles.

Sniffy neighbours on both sides are still complaining. It’s no good taking away their built up garden beds and then telling me it’s my fault the bottom of the fences are rotting. I don’t water and I don’t have garden beds. On one side whining people want me to cut down the tree in the corner. It was originally a Lillypilly with big purple fruit but it’s gone back to the original graft tree which gives me hayfever and has little black berries. The birds love the berries and they have to crap somewhere so what am I going to do, walk out and give them a stern talking to about not doing it on the shiny roof next door. Them on the other side have the cotonester red berries being dropped everywhere. I’m an equal opportunity pest encourager.

At least when I was thirsty I only had to reach up and eat a mandarin. My legs and arms look a bit worse for wear but my blood clotting factor seems to be working. My first Camellia bud has flowered. The world’s worst photographer will try to get a good pic of that. It’s pink and called a Waterlily Camellia. I have two Camellias which are the only things I haven’t killed off. I don’t count Geraniums, nothing kills them. My snowdrops are also up, they survive because they’re underground where I can’t do much damage. At least I can say, my garden is where the wild things grow, nothing much else does.

PILLOW TALK

I wasn't going to put craft up here again so soon but I have no thinking brain cells at the moment and Avon has pinched my idea. Their's is only a tacky 12cm cushion with a smaller cushion and coin on top which they call a wealth cushion. It's perfumed with a ghastly Jasmine scent and Jasmine is horrible when it's real. Mine were a lot bigger than a measly 12 cm.

I made these for a man's walk-in dressingroom/wardrobe. The two lower cushions are Chinese red and gold satin and the smaller top is of shot Thai silk of a pumpkin colour which I matched to the colour of the room. Every corner has drops of gold and red glass beads and the leaves on the top are glass beads woven on gold wire. The house has an Eastern influence in furnishings so these are in keeping with the theme.

They're designed to be placed near a heating duct or window where the heat from the Sun will release the Spice potpourri. I didn't think a pretty lavender or rose pot pourri would suit so I mixed cinnamon bark, crushed cloves, allspice berries, dried mandarin and lime rinds, cardamon pods and orange oil, lots of orange oil. The trick to not having any of the spice dust come out of the cushions is to put everything in a huge bowl with the dacron filling and keep rolling it around until it is held within the filling.

I was glad when they left for their new home, the smell was delicious and filled the house and made me hungry. It also made me want a drink, a nicely chilled Brandy Crusta. I love the sugar around the rim and I love the smell of it. I wish I had my sister's liver then I could drink again and that would be the first thing I'd drink. I have a list.

Where was I? Avon, crummy ideas, mine are better and I thought of it first. I read the Avon book and write down things I like then I wait for the sale catalogues when it's half price. I can be thrifty when I like. Speaking of thrifty, my excellent $2 emporium has closed for renovations when it will be opened as a $2 specialist shop. In other words, $2 and up. Bother, I liked the tiny little shop, it was easy to hide a special something behind the other junk until I could get back to it. If they make it all light and spacious it won't be the same. I hate change.

THAT CODE THING

Yesterday didn't happen. I refuse to acknowledge yesterday at all from the early morning when my mother said that thing wasn't working until nightfall when I was ready to reach down the phone and rip out a nurse's throat. My mother's thing that wasn't working, it was her memory. So yesterday is in limbo and will remain there.

Today I went to see that film about the book that everyone hates because he is making squillions from it. If I don't mention the name, no-one can google me. It would have been worse if I hadn't been in Gold Class courtesy of my Christmas present ticket and working my way through the dessert menu courtesy of my Christmas present food ticket. I would have had my feet up but I can never work the stupid button on the side of the comfy chair and besides I would have to lean too far for the food.

Memo to self: Never go to one of those black out trendy food places where I have to wear a blindfold and the place is in total darkness. It's supposed to enhance the appreciation of the food if you can only taste it. I'd die of starvation. I can't find my mouth in a theatre where there is a small amount of light. It's very embarassing when the lights go up and you're wearing a necklace of marachino cherries that somehow missed being hoovered up with the cheesecake.

The film was ordinary. I'm glad I read the book or I would have missed the primary plot, being as it were, holy (pun intended) absorbed by the secondary plot. That is, the mystery of Tom Hanks' disappearing botoxed forehead. He starts offwith a 3 storey high forehead and straight across hair and ends with worry lines and a widow's peak. For the first hour there is no expression above his eyebrows and his squishy little eyes don't move a lot either. When did he have the stroke? I mean he only talks using the right side of his mouth although at the end there is a slight movement that shows teeth on the left. It was fascinating watching the various lumps, bumps and furrows slowly appear. He has a face that lumps, bumps and furrows can only improve. I hate to think what he'll look like by the time he makes the next Langdon film.

People complained it was too talky but I didn't think so. There wasn't enough of the Louvre, or Westminster or the Chapel in Scotland. I'm still stumped as to who could have played Langdon other than Hanks. On that note, I watched 'Zulu' the other night and please don't ever have Hollywood remake that film. It's a little dated but Stanley Baker and Michael Caine and the cast of British character actors are still great to watch. I'd have actually paid Gold Class prices to see that.

SKY WATCH

This is going to be the evening sky facing north-west in Melbourne tomorrow night, June 15 at 6.00pm AEST.

The black expanse to the left of Pollux is a representation of the Prime Rodent's mind.

I'd do more sky watching but it's outside and it's cold and the neighbours think I'm perving when I sit on the roof.

I did take a photo of the partial eclipse of the moon last year. It came out beautifully, a tiny yellow dot in a huge nothing, guess who forgot the telescopic lens.

What can I say, women cannot be perfect all the time, we do have our seconds of off-time.

MY KNEES

My Knees. Very expensive. The operation hurts, lots. I had it done twice. I was going to put up selected highlights from the operation report but it even turned me green. They did everything with my leg except score a soccer goal, twice. I got to keep my own kneecap, not this plastic one.
The peg down the middle of the long bone is hammered in and the top of the bone is cut off and levelled. Keep looking at this and ignore the steaming pile of Yak turds in the room, it's only Howard and Ruddock stealing legislation. They'll pass into nothingness in time but Gays and Lesbians will still be here, being civil unioned by a more tolerant society than this miserable remnant of Christian Crawlers Anonymous.

As I was saying about meteorites. This is a quote from Guy Consolmagno of the Vatican observatory in Arizona, and curator of the Vatican meteorite collection in Castel Gandolfo, Italy.
"Religion needs science to keep it away from superstition and close to reality, to protect it from creationism, which is a kind of paganism."
The Vatican's meteorite collection????

And back we go to Antarctica. Jennie Whinam, a botanist with Australia's Department of Primary Industries in Tasmania, and colleagues from the Australian Antarctic Division decided to check what sort of alien organisms might be hitching a ride on the expeditions to remote sub-Antarctic islands. They used vacuum cleaners and forceps to suck and pluck every seed, spore and plant fragment. From 64 arrivals, they found 981 seeds and fruits belonging to 90 species, some of them invasive and a serious risk to local flora. The majority came attached to the Velcro fastenings of clothing and gear.

The Swiss inventor of Velcro got the idea from the prickly burrs entangled in his dog's coat. The fine hooks covering the burr had become so emeshed in the dog's fur, it was almost impossible to separate. So full circle and an invention is now doing exactly what Nature has been doing forever. Now don't give another thought to those Yak turds, Nature will fix them.

ANTARCTIC CRATER

Not every scientist is convinced that this is a crater but Geophysicist Dr. Ralph von Frese of Ohio State University thinks this is the remains of a 48 kilometre wide meteorite that wiped out most of life on Earth. This was at the end of the Permian (called the Great Dying) 250 million years ago when 90 per cent of marine life and 80 per cent of life on land were wiped out.

The circular land features are in the Wilkes Land region of East Antarctica, south of Australia. The crater would be more than twice the size of the Chicxulub crater believed to have wiped out the dinosaurs. von Frese believes its location suggests it is older than 100 million years, the date at which Australia drifted northwards from Gondwana.

The faint yellow circle is a 320 kilometre wide plug of dense material which is a feature of impact craters. von Frese expects this to be mantle material that was sucked up as the meteorite rebounded from the Earth's surface.

The image above shows Australia fitting together with the Antarctic coastline and the concentric rings or shock waves around the crater. Von Frese says this suggests that the ocean between Antarctica and Australia opened after the crater was formed. He thinks the impact could have triggered the process that culminated in the break up of Gondwana 100 or so million years later. This was the creation of the tectonic rift that pushed Australia northward.

Dr. Peter Morgan of the University of Canberra trained in gravity analysis at Ohio State University and says he has ground-based gravity and radar measurements of the same area. He is now processing the data to see if it supports the theory. But before the structure can be linked to the Permian extinction, it has to be dated and it's almost 2.5 kilometres beneath the ice.

While we're still down in Antarctica. Belgium will build the first polar station powered solely by renewable sources of energy - solar and wind. The base will be for studying climate change and will cost $10.8 million. Australian Government please take note and try converting our base down there. Some of that 10 billion earmarked for ID cards would be put to better use on the ice.

SUNDAY RANT

The fight to get Herceptin for women with HER2 positive primary breast cancer is still going on.
Tony Abbott is still sitting on his PBS hands. There are instances where the drug won't work but a young mother with kids who is looking at dying anyway will take any chance to survive.

The Prime Rodent said yesterday, "The Government is well aware of the public support for the drug and the need to consider potential listing of this drug as quickly as possible. The Government is moving to ensure the necessary processes are completed in minimum time."

Will you two get off your collective arses, stop pissing about with Civil Unions which will hurt no-one and do something about this cancer which kills women? I bet if your dicks turned green with purple spots and herceptin would help, it would be free. Speaking of free, if this government has 10 billion to waste on ID cards to stop us welfare bludgers, I'll give up my share to buy Herceptin for one woman.

On the subject of us welfare, disability bludgers of baby boomer age, here's another little item.
Hello Whingeing Watson. Generation X-ers are at risk of dying before their parents. A new Australian study shows they are becoming obese faster than any other age group.
The Sydney University study found those born between 1966 and 1970 were gaining weight more rapidly than baby boomers and adults of the pre-war generations.
Diet and lack of physical activity have been blamed for X-ers being more prone to becoming fat.
HaaaHaaaaaHaaaaaa.

Now for something I really have an opinion about. Federal Education Minister Julie Bishop wants to introduce a national uniform minimum age of 4 and a half for starting school. Education ministers will vote on it next month. This is fine if the parents are given a choice if they don't think their child will cope at this age. An extra 6 months makes a lot of difference to a child's development and while parents who have had children in childcare will say they can cope, others may not.
My son started at 4 and a half. It was two years before we knew there was a problem and that was only discovered by accident. I always heard his reading homework until one night two pages in the book were stuck together and he read the next page perfectly except it should have been the preceeding page.
It was discovered that he had memorised every page of every book by listening. He wasn't dsylexic but he read and wrote words and entire sentences completely backwards. He knew that was wrong so turned it round and the psychologist who tested him said it was the equivalent of reading and translating a foreign language. The problem was that his eye/brain co-ordination hadn't matured when he started school and it was a matter of his body catching up to the brain. The psychologist tested him twice to make sure the answers he was giving were not guesses because those answers were in the 11 y-old range.

It was only another 6 months before the reading and writing becames normal. But the stress on that kid who felt he had to hide it had an emotional effect on me. The psychologist pointed out that it took specialised testing to discover it because he wanted to be like the others in his class so he became very clever at concealing it. This is why I wouldn't like the school age to be mandatory unless the parents are able to discuss their child with teachers first.

COGNITIVE MAPPING

John Zeisel has a doctorate in sociology and has trained in architecture and neuroscience. He has designed care homes for people suffering from Alzheimer’s and hospital rooms for premature babies. The information about prem. Babies was new to me.

The brains auditory and visual pathways and sense organs develop before the foetus is exposed to external stimuli. During the last few months it starts sensing noise and vibration. The retina and visual cortex are still developing. If the babies are born prematurely this development is disrupted by exposure to artificial lights, noisy equipment, the voices of doctors etc.

This creates permanent damage, which means they cannot discriminate between frequencies and tones as well as other babies. They can develop speech difficulties and never become good musicians. Being exposed to overbright lights too early means that the eye grows too quickly, often resulting in myopia.

John Zeisel’s idea is to design places that act as a substitute for the womb; an environment that supports what is going on in the brain.

But it was his use of design in Alzheimer’s care homes that made me realize why I feel comfortable in my home. According to Zeisel, most care homes have hallways that all look the same. This is distressing to Alzheimer’s patients who can’t remember what’s around a corner or which way to go.

Zeisel has overcome this by having all hallways and pathways ending with a visible destination. Such as having a fireplace or kitchen or something the person can associate with safety visible at all times. He also puts familiar photographs, chosen by the patients, on the walls so they have a sense of place. They don’t wander around because they can see where or what they are going to. This lowers the level of anxiety.

To quote Zeisel:
“If somebody has amnesia, and cannot remember certain things, they say: “I don’t know who I am.” To remember something you need to know where it happened as well as when it happened. Place is essential to memory: without a memory of place, people lose their sense of self.”

My home is small, in the old language, 13 squares. Every room is visible from another. The only longish hallway leads to the kitchen and I filled one wall of it, floor to ceiling, with books. The way mirrors are placed there is a view around every corner. I’ve never grown tired of it and I feel safe in it. So now if I go into a house and hate it immediately then it’s just my cognitive mapping ability that’s offline and nothing to do with the purple shagpile carpet and orange feature wall.

THANK YOU PM

I bet you all wondered where the witch venom was when the Prime Rodent made his announcement about overturning the ACT's Civil Unions Act. Well I was in a bit of pain, the date being 6.6.6 and my past lives coming back to haunt me. You know dislocating of joints on the rack, burnings, getting thrown in lakes, all discriminatory acts against the gentle crones of the forest. Not to mention the temperature in Melbourne, talk about Hell freezing over.

I do want to thank His Ratness for considering the institution of marriage and how he can save it from those awful *gasp* same-sex people who think they *horror* should be allowed to commit to each other. I mean JUST LIKE US normals. I admire him for standing up on the day of the Anti-Christ and throwing his Godliness in the Devil's face.

Now let's really save the institution of marriage and shove all skanky blondes in those detention centres we've got standing idle. Another idea would be to let legislation go through but do a little deal with God. Any gay person proposing marriage to another would instantly be smitten with Ruddock's visage and that should stop them in their tracks. I'm sure I could think of others but I'm having phantom pains due to bodkins being stuck in odd places.

YUM

I love sweet things that sprawl on homespun sheets.

CRAFTY TWO AND A BIT

Brilliant! I only had to choose between three photos and I post the same one twice. Here are the other two. Just as bad, it wasn't my fault, they kept moving on the cushions.

CRAFTY NO. 2

I'm not bad at craft but definitely the world's worst photographer. I used to make these little mice, from my own design, in pretty flowered cottons for gifts for babies. They have shank button eyes, lacey ears and ribbons hold up their tails. Stuffing the tails was an art in itself. I sold hundreds of these until sales stopped dead, just like that. It took a while to figure out why but I finally did. Mothers didn't dress their babies like babies anymore. Nothing pretty was suddenly the rule and it was garish colours, baby jeans and walloping great boots on two month old tiny tots. They grow up fast enough without pushing it along. Stupid fashion conscious tarts. So now I make them with lavender inside and put them in the wardrobe. Fiddly little buggers but pretty.

NOTES FOR BLOGGING

After reading the last post I must remember:

Don't blog when tired, stressed, in pain, full of pain killers, eating almond brittle, peanutbutter on toast, thinking too much and drinking port.

Especially don't blog when I'm doing all of those at the same time.

I'm leaving all the mistakes, it will remind me.

One thing I did leave out of that post, my first hangover. I found that the new toilet was the right distance for sitting and throwing up in the handbasin. Fancy mum thinking ahead like that.

MEMORIES

Over the years I've spent a small fortune on psychiatrists when all I had to do was, one, not get married and two, read other blogs. Thanks to Highriser blogspot mentioning dunnycarts, I had so many repressed memories float to the surface (so to speak) that I should sue the last therapist for saying I was sane.

Every day some health official or doctor is giving advice on how to avoid bowell cancer which is fine for the young but far too late for us oldies. Most of us can pinpoint the cause of any bowell problem and/or phobias in our memories of the backyard dunny. Throw in lung cancer as well if the BYD was made of Hardy's fibro and lord knows what carcinogens we soaked up through the skin from the phenol used to disinfect the wooden seat.

I can't believe how many terrors of my youth were caused by that small aromatic building. Our main house was built on sandy soil but a shortage of any drainage made the backyard a swamp which my mother tried to rectify by planting willow trees and my father undid by stabling a race horse there. The only light was on the back verandah which meant darkness halfway down the wooden path. Unless the moon was up, shining through the willow branches with the wind moving the leaves, talking to each other but it's okay mummy and daddy are here holding your hand. Yeah, right, back up, ma and pa are inside toasting their feet by the fire, "Just yell if you need us." I can't yell, the willow trees will hear me, if I pee myself, my mother will get me.

Now I see the beginings of the chronic anxiety that will keep shrinks and pharma companies in luxury for years.

We never had a light in the BYD, we were too poor to have that wonder of modern technology - a torch so the only chance was to hide a box of matches and hope no one found out. This led to more anxiety. Was it better to see where the spiders were and watch them watching me or stay in the dark and hope they stayed asleep. The only chance was to play Kipling's 'Great Game' and remember the exact location of every web in daylight. I don't know how they survived although flies were plentiful but it was the smell, not what you think nor the phenol but those dreadful, wrapped in purple cellophane, noxious de-odorant blocks commonly known as 'lavvy lollies'.

Then there was the horse. Dad built a fence using the BYD as part of it so the horse would use the wall as a scratching post or give it a bit of a wallop with a hoof. His best trick was to open the door and shove his head inside and that head and those teeth were enormous to a sitting child. How many times have I read in books about a horse's gentle snickering, forget it, this beast could smell fear, the snickering was sarcastic. No good banging on the walls for help, that dislodged the spiders and got the earwigs going. Even worse was making the big escape to find he'd done his second best trick, rolling under the bottom rail and standing on the path to the house. I was as glad as mum was, the night he jumped the front fence and trotted back to his old stable.

Now the wooden path was another hazard to negotiate to the BYD. My mother made it from wooden blocks dug into the sandy soil without cement. When it rained they floated away and I would hold to bursting point before tackling a swirling torrent. Water like that kills earthworms and they float and it doesn't matter how old I get, I will never walk through dead earthworms. It was a great day when Dad came home from the pub with a load of "hot" concrete blocks off the back of a truck.

Then there was the never-ending terror of being caught 'on the job' by the 'man with the can'. Dad bribed him to come more often, usually in the dead of night but never to a timetable. He actually had an apprentice. There were tricks to be learned. Never hoist a full one, tip a bit out son, but not where anyone can see. Our labrador dog was a digging type of dog and the DM's apprentice missed the hole by the gate going in but he certainly went to the bottom, with a full one, on the way out. A lot of workplace negotiations went with that incident and reparation in the form of a few dozen bottles of VB. One Christmas, unexpected visitors saw dad out at midnight digging a deep hole to bury a slight overflow, he'd have made a great parliamentarian.

In one of her beautifying moods mum built a wood and chicken wire fence, five feet high, to hide the BYD. My sister, the gymnast, would use the top as a practice beam until the day she overbalanced. She ended up hollering for an hour before dad could stop laughing and help her pull her foot out of the dunny wall. He left the hole there with her name underneath it. She and I would stand at the bus stop and watch in horror as the school bus and the dunny cart raced neck and neck down the hill. We had two options, pray the school bus would get to us first or run like the devil down the side road to the next street.

When we finally got the sewerage connected mum went crazy. The new toilet attached to the house was built to her specifications. It was half the size of my bedroom. It had two windows with frilly curtains, wall paper, full length mirror and a hand basin with running water. Dad put his foot down about an expensive light fitting so mum bought a cheap plastic one and put in a 100 watt globe. After it melted and dropped on his head, twice, he gave in.

I think this covers most of my idiosyncrasies and phobias, anxiety, dead worms, horses, dark nights, never shutting the door, 100w globes to shine in every corner and never, never run out of toilet paper. Thank you Andrew, your cheque is in the mail, use it appropriately.

68 DAYS

That is right. Only 68 days since we saw the first doctor and full circle to see him again today.

In those 68 days Mum has had a mammogram, ultra-sound, core biopsy, CT scan, bone scan, Chest X-ray, heart scan blood tests, breathing test, mastectomy and lymph node removal. She came through the op with flying colours. It even surprised the oncologist at how well she went.

She has to take the tablets for the rest of her life but today it wasn't said how long that life would be. The doctor gave her too much information and I could see her zoning out. Already the wound cut has opened along one end, only 10 mm on Tuesday at the clinic but today it was more like 30. He said it might take 4 to 6 weeks to heal from the inside out. There is also a small build up of fluid at the breast bone. The tumour was much larger than the scan showed but only one node was cancerous. So while everything visible has been removed, the cells can still be floating around somewhere.

She got in the car and asked me if I got everything he said, that's so she doesn't have to think about it. As long as I know, she's happy. Did it mean she was cured? I told her to ask again in 5 years. My sister walked in, took one look at my face and handed me a large chocolate bar. She knows the signs too well. The breast care nurses don't do home visits so I have to watch for infection and do the dressings, which is no problem but what happens to really sick women who can't make it to the hospital? District nurses, I suppose but our doctor is willing to come if he's needed.

The old girl hasn't quite given up but she did tell me to stay home for the weekend. Bad sign, no manipulating to get me to keep her company. I never thought I'd miss that. I picked up her morphine from the chemist and her tattslotto but it was a long walk home in the dark. The leg went again about 3 houses from home. It's just a leg, I can fix that.

COMFORT BLOGGING

The only thing to do on a cold afternoon and there's no chocolate hidden anywhere in the house, is to make a visit to Miss Chika at http://shewhoeats.blogspot.com and drool over her beautiful food photos.

This is Ginger-scented chocolate mousse with mango and passionfruit.

Cubes of fresh Mango, pulp and seeds of passionfruit mixed with ginger syrup, light and smooth chocolate mousse with ginger bits, topped with chocolate shaves.

I used to make a marshmallow pavlova and fill it with chocolate mousse and drizzle melted chocolate over the top. Then I'd serve it with a small glass of Drambuie to cut the sweetness. No wonder I have a bum like a working bullock. Do you know you can actually taste memories?

PRUNNING

I went all over the mandarin tree to photograph the best and these were them. Don't look at the black hole in the middle, just pretend it isn't there because it wasn't. It's where the possum kama-kazied off the roof and landed smack in the middle of the tree and snapped off a loaded branch. So now they know the fruit is ripe and the war has begun. I walked out this morning and they have eaten the fruit and left the skins on the tree, swines.


I prunned this right down 12 months ago when the fruit didn't grow to more than grape size. It was overshadowed by a huge Blue Spruce so that was next to go. I think that's why the mandarin has come on so well, more water and sun. Notice my politically correct lawn, pine needles, grass tufts and dirt. It softens the landings when the possums fall out of the tree. When it rains on the blossoms, the smell of mandarins fill my bedroom.


Two years ago, I cut down the lemon tree to the second rail on the fence. I couldn't reach the ripe fruit at the top so I thought 'That'll learn ya!' but it loved it. In the grass at the bottom is a large cat and the fence is over 6 foot tall. It's a bit hard to see the lemons because the stupid things aren't ripe yet and I still haven't figured out how to get the top ones down.
I had never prunned anything until the Blight left and six years ago I did it a lot easier than these days. I just take my time, a few branches each day.

There are only two rules for cutting branches. Don't hang on to the branch you're cutting and don't stand under the branch you're cutting when hanging on to the branch next to it. In all cases this leads to stitches and a black eye.