WITTELSBACH-GRAFF BLUE DIAMOND

This is the Wittelsbach-Graff Blue diamond which will be on display with the Hope diamond. I prefer this colour to that of the Hope and there is speculation that both diamonds came from the same Indian mine.
The diamond's history goes back to 1664 when it was given by Philip IV of Spain to his daughter, the Infanta Margarita Teresa on her engagement to Emperor Leopold I of Austria. In 1772, the diamond passed to the Wittelsbachs, the ruling House of Bavaria.


Laurence Graff bought the diamond in December 2008 and he decided to repolish the stone, in the process reducing its 35.56 carats to an internally flawless 31.06 (the Hope is 45.52 carats)
and putting his own name to the stone.


Here are the two stones, Wittelsbach-Graff on the right and the Hope on the left, fluorescing under UV light.

Even with the re-cutting and re-polishing of the stone, Graff took great care to retain its original features. It has a top certification of internally flawless, type Ilb (the rarest), Fancy Deep Blue from the Gemological Institute of America.



Nothing to do with large blue diamonds but if anyone has this 4.75 Fuschia pink sapphire rolling around in a drawer, I would be interested in taking great care of it. I'll even pay the postage.

THE HOPE DIAMOND

The famous Hope Diamond, the stone of legend and curse. It was thought to be originally from India and at one time was part of the Crown Jewells of France, known as the "French Blue". It disappeared during the Revolution turning up 20 years later, cut down to this size.

It is supposed to be cursed but it's generally thought that Pierre Cartier played this up when trying to sell the jewell to Evalyn Walsh McLean. She liked gems with a history but she didn't like the setting so after the sale, the diamond was mounted as a headpiece on a three tiered circlet of large diamonds. Later it was made into a pendant and attached to the diamond necklace as it is today. It was owned by the Hope family for most of the 19th Century.
If it wasn't cursed then Evalyn was certainly an unlucky woman. Her husband left her and died in an asylum and two of her children died young.

Jeweller Harry Winston bought the diamond after her death in 1947 and donated it to the Smithsonian in 1958. Last year, for the fiftieth anniversary of that donation, the diamond was removed from it's setting.
Three new modern settings were drafted and the final selection was decided by public voting. It will be unveiled in April, 2010.


The first design by Maurice Galli is called a Journey of Hope symbolizing the American experience of uniting Hope and Opportunity.
Gallli's second design, Embracing Hope, has three ribbon rows of of baguette diamonds hugging the Hope in the centre.
Rie Yatsuki created the third design, Renewed Hope. The dangling diamonds recall the flow of water in nature.
After a limited time in its new setting, the Hope will be returned to its heritage setting.
The diamond was thought to be unique in emanating a strong reddish-orange glow after being exposed to ultra violet light. Researchers discovered that almost all blue diamonds glow after exposure. These blue diamonds get their colour from traces of Boron and this interacts with nitrogen and UV to give the stones a glow of bluish-green overlaying a red phosphorescence.

With the difference between colour and duration of glow, researchers can use this as a diamond fingerprint to distinguish between fake and real stones. It could track stolen diamonds even if they've been re-cut.


The Hope Diamond weighs 45.52 carats.
It has a length of 25.60mm, a width of 21.78mm and depth of 12.00mm.
It's a cushion cut antique brilliant with a faceted girdle and extra facets on the pavillion.
Its clarity classification is VS1 with a whitish graining.
Its colour is a fancy dark grayish blue.
In its pendant shape, it is surrounded by 16 white pear-shaped and cushion cut diamonds. The necklace chain contains 45 white diamonds.

WHAT WENT WRONG AND RIGHT

A lot and is on going.
Found out why (in part) the computer has been so slow. When IE8 downloaded and installed itself, in uninstalled IE7 so when I ditched IE8, I ended up with what was left, IE6. Thank you to the website that pointed this out to me.

The print spooler problem is still with me but I just go in to 'my computer' and start it up. Now that IE8 is with
me maybe Microsoft will finally fix it.

I've had a lovely time losing and finding toolbars, menu bars, helpful google rubbish I don't need.
Now somewhere along the line, a box popped up with print size and stupid me clicked medium. I now need a microscope to read the Daily Mail. (Antikva, I can hear you sniggering from Benders) Just email and tell me how to go back.

Thank you to River who sent me the coding instructions for the DVD and it worked. My 'Serenity' is back on the big screen.

Thank you to the Bwca who plays Ebay like a violin and found me the special edition of The Jewel in the Crown for mother's birthday.

Speaking of mother, she has ordered a seat belt for the wheel chair so she doesn't fall out going down hills.

As for the cat, she has a new dish, expensive food and a slave.
She also has sharp claws and this morning missed the window ledge in the lounge room and like a cartoon cat slid to the carpet and shredded the voile curtains.

As for the putting away of things, there are bits of carpet that haven't seen the light of day since before Christmas and I'm really motivated by the pile of lovely new books that can't be read until the clean-up is finished. Motivation is a 400 page book on Tiaras.

Now if I could just find that print button I'd be happy.

RAGE RAGE RAGE INTERNET RAGE

Well maybe I overdid the rage, no I didn't because I'm still raging.
I found all the film soundtracks I wanted plus the 25th anniversary edition of 'The Jewell in the Crown' for mother's 80th birthday on a website called Play.com.

I even managed to convert pounds to Aus dollars, got out the credit card and started to fill out the details and the morons, stupid stupid dumb poms don't send to Australia.

@#%%#& and a lot of other swearing.

We took their bloody convicts.

Their government is in debt up to their eyeballs and they don't want good Aussie dollars.

@#%$^^&

THIS WAS PURE GOLD

I watched the final of the ice dancing last night and Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir of Canada truly deserved the Gold Medal. It was technically difficult but so elegant to watch as they performed to Mahler's Symphony No. 5. What made it easier to watch were their pared down costumes compared to the Americans and Russians who had too many frou-frou flapping things that took away from their performances. Instead of watching them, I ended up watching the flippy bits of material going every which way and made their performances look messy which they weren't.

I've found it hard going to watch the ice skating no thanks to Channel 9 who slotted the performances in any old spot. The remote got a real work out but I still missed just about everything. I can't stand the ads which go on forever and I can't stand watching the 'hosts' waffle on about nothing. I was actually nostalgic for Bruce McAveny (sp?). But catching this one performance was worth the channel switching.

ANOTHER BEND IN MEMORY LANE

This journey to the past is never ending but at least I have saved you from another scanned photograph.

It would have been my father sitting behind his prized possession, the TV TRAY. In caps because that's the way he thought of it. Coming home from the races on a winter's night, footy on the telly, fire on and his tea on a tray, he was in luxuryland.

So, we had a fight. I can't think what we would be fighting about at 8 a.m. when I was on the way out the door to the bus stop. I mean we were both so volatile we tended to keep a lid on things, going off to snarl in corners. My sister was a different kind of fish. She sulked, she could have sulked for Australia in the Olympics so with her, Dad sulked. They would go on for weeks until Mum did her block. But I'd explode and so would he.

The bus stop was right outside the house so I calculated the distance and flew out the door, having the last word as I went.

It must have been a good last word as he picked up his precious tray and threw it through the front door at me. He missed.

I did the only thing possible. I turned around and jumped on his tray. I flattened it to the grass.
And ran for the bus wondering how old one had to be for joining the French Foreign Legion.

He took the battered and broken creature inside and asked Mum if she thought I'd come home that night.

He rang about 3 and said Mum wanted to know if I'd be home for tea.

He was eating his tea from a brand new tray.

"Nice tray," I said. "Got it on Special." he said.

THE KARMA OF SPIDERS

Yes, they do evoke karma on anyone stupid enough to mock the hairy legged ones.

I've been watching one roam the ceilings of this house for weeks. I thought he might have fried himself by hiding in the downlight but not with the energy saving bulbs.

So he finally ended up in the bathroom, hopefully chewing on a few thousand silverfish. I drew the line at having a shower with him scootling round the ceiling above me. He decided the curtains might be a nice home, good, I could see his shadow with the sun behind.

Saturday morning and I reach the the handle of the toilet door but it's grown legs. He was around the door and up the wall before I could do anything. Back into the curtains. Back up in the corner where it's impossible to get him. So it was open the door, bang on the wall and check for hairy legs.

Sunday night, the same routine, the same corner. Early Sunday morning about 2 a.m., the cat wakes me for food. I have to do something about that cat's internal clock so I go to the loo and unusually for me, I turn on the light. It's nothing for me to wander around the house with no lights on. Do the ceiling check, okay we're right, he's gone.

Gone where? Well, where else but the toilet seat, sitting there with its little hairy legs gripped to the edge. I'm busting, he ain't moving and he's staring at me. I flipped him with the duster and he copped a squirt of flyspray on the way to the floor.

Here I am, duster and huge can of flyspray, I'm the danger so why did he have to charge across the floor, straight down the valley of death rode the hairy legs. I did a reasonable impression of Micheal Flatly and hairy legs shot into the bathroom where he got another belt of spray.

Did I mention I was busting and all the jigging around wasn't helping so gratefully I reclaimed my throne. Now to wash hands and dispose of deadylegs.

He's goooooooooone.

You can bet I'll be shaking out the towells for the next month.

TWINS

That's Aunt Selma on the right and mother on the left. I think they were about 15 in this photo.
I've finally dumped all those magnetic albums in the rubbish. I'm now down to keeping the very clear old photos where you can actually see faces. I'm getting sick of it now so all the boxes and empty slip albums are going to get shoved in the cupboard until a rainy afternoon in July.

Dear Aunt Selma isn't coming down for their birthdays in March. Instead she's decided to hold an open house for all her friends to come and see her. Mum's really cut up about it....not. She's planning on her own celebration for getting to 80 years but it will be at the home and hopefully I won't be involved in any way except walking through the front door.

I've posted the deposit cheque for the gold plated and diamond encrusted wheelchair. That could be the only reason for the cost. I did ask if she had been supervised while filling out the customising sheet and they said the physio helped her with it. It's a shame they didn't ask the girls who actually push her in it as I was told yesterday that there was at least $900 worth that wasn't needed. So the standard price of about two and a half thousand dollars went up to $5,647.00. I didn't ask if a contract was signed but I've heard from others that if you make a fuss, your name goes to the bottom of the list and it's a 6 week wait or more from when the deposit is received. So it's making her happy even if it isn't there for her birthday and I'm not about to rock the boat.

She is in the happy phase of dementia where nothing bothers her as long as she is in her routine.
I proved this yesterday by making her miss Bingo to talk to me. She got very fidgety and wasn't happy until Bingo finished and her mates came over to talk and the routine was re-established.
This morning she was out with her walker to make arrangements for the train to Mordialloc and check out a party shop on the main drag of Mentone where I found the gold doillies she wanted. Connex would never allow more than 4 wheelchairs to get on the train as it slowed down the service, OH CHORTLE, but Metro is allowing the six residents to go, otherwise it's two days out and there aren't enough volunteers to do this.

I get to stay home until Friday afternoon or even Saturday morning, colour me happy.

ONCE A YEAR

It's every mother's right to embarrass her offspring.
In my case, it was Christmas morning when, for years I would appear as something diabolically Christmassy to hand out gifts.
To every one in the street, that is out in the open air where I could be seen from space.
It became the custom to have a bbq breakfast on somebody's nature strip before we all drifted off to whatever hellhole Christmas dinner was being held that year.
This is actually one of my more non-elaborate outfits.
Don't you wish you'd had me as a mother?

ANOTHER BAD SCAN

It's frightful but I promise not to put up anymore until I read the instructions for the scanner, which I've had for 4 years and not opened the instruction book or taken the virtual tour. It's on my list to do.

But this belongs to one of those great bonding moments of family life. The final farewell to the outdoor dunny. The sewerage pipes had already gone through along the fence which is why the OD looks a bit respectable in 1967. We were the last in the street to be connected and we didn't have much choice since they threatened to sue us. I don't know where Dad got the money from but he got it.

If we get into the Wayback Machine for 15 years, the picture would look a lot different. No houses behind the fence and in front of the fence 3 huge willow trees trying valiently to soak up drainage water from every other house in the street, ours being the lowland. The race horse lived here for a time. Never a need for laxettes when a huge horse decides to open the door and say hello. There was a fence right alongside the OD to keep him in, insert horse laugh here, the beast would simply lie down and roll under it and one night managed to jump the front fence, the only hurdle he ever went over and trotted back to his former stable.

Back to the OD. Spiders on the rafters, under the seat fighting with earwigs, snails walking under the door. A log of wood by the seat, bang three times to drop the wildlife to the ground and hope you were finished by the time they made it back home. That path in front in 1967, was made of bricks dug firmly in, back in the days it was wooden blocks which floated all over the yard whenever we had a storm. Don't forget this was a quarter acre block and the OD was way down the yard. It amazes me now that father would lock up the house to keep us safe but let us walk to this hell hole in the pitch black while he went back to bed.

Now the little fence at the front usually had some vine growing to hide the door as the neighbourhood grew around us. There was another fence at the side to hide it from the house and it was as high as possible. Mum would grow green beans or sweet peas in order to gentrify the fibro sheeting. It's almost impossible to see but high up on the left hand corner is a patch over the fibro. Sister was a gymnast and the only flat beam to practise on was the top of this fence and we're talking some 6 or more feet off the ground but every afternoon she'd be up there balancing and jumping. This was fine except for the day she slipped and one foot went through the wall and one foot stayed on the fence. My father standing there, with hands in pockets and smile on face said, "That was a good move. How do you get down?". We boarded the hole up since too much moonlight coming in at night had a tendency to show up the spiders.
This was always a dilemma, go in blind and trust or strike a match to see where they were and how many.

Then there was the dunnyman or maybe he deserves capitals, DunnyMan. Many a time we would be standing at the bus stop waiting for the school bus only to see bus and noxious cart come round the corner together and race neck and neck to our stop. The prayers we prayed that the bus would get to us first. Even worse was having one late and the other early and the whole bus would watch with interest as DM, flat hat and spills would trot out with the can.

Let us not forget the creeping out at midnight during holidays so father could dig a hole behind the OD and empty the can before any embarrassing bum contact with contents happened. He got round this by meeting the DM at the pub and exchanging notes ensured a double visit during holidays.

So comes the great day when we are to be connected. We should have had a red ribbon to be cut. Father says there's not enough room in the bathroom and that's opposite the front door so in his own 'Castle' moment, he decides to build a toilet room on the side of the house. Concrete patio, a roof to the door, two windows, a hand basin, full length mirror, carpet, wallpaper and a porcelain throne with a flip up seat. He stopped Mum from going over the top with a small chandelier but gave in after two cheap plastic light covers melted and fell on his head. A pretty glass one went up.
We supervised every inch of the building. We'd gather round the door each night to see how much longer we'd have to wait. The trek down the back became longer and I was sure I'd die of spider bite before entering the holy of holies. As the last curtain went up and the seat came down, Buckingham Palace couldn't have compared with our new toilet, that is toilet, dunny was never to be heard again.

ANYONE FOR SHUFFLEBOARD?

To get the full effect of this ocean, just do the clicky thing and go wow!

The photo was taken from the bridge of the research vessel Knorr during a storm in the Denmark Strait, October 7, 2007. The waves were whipped up by 55 knot to high 60 knot winds. These huge seas had stove in a steel container mounted on the starboard side and another wave had carried away one of the 2,000-pound mooring balls strapped to a stout rack welded to the deck. The straps didn't tear, the wave riped out the welds.

The Denmark Strait separates Iceland from the East coast of Greenland by 250 miles of water.
South of the Strait is the Irminger Sea which is the windiest stretch of salt water on the globe.

NOT SO GOOD WITH THE SCANNING

I remember the red roses and had to keep my mouth shut because I had no front teeth. My Aunt's wedding and there's a Patsy Kline song that instantly takes me back to the reception. You would think I'd at least remember the food but I was always too crook to eat.

This photo is only 6cm by 8cm which is why it's so hard to scan. My mother is in the middle and my father is to her left. Of all the men here, (nine) he was the only one to survive TB. The surgery was pretty basic in those days. They would dislocate the shoulder, take out a few ribs and whatever of the diseased lung they could or the whole lung. Then the patient would wake up with a brick on the shoulder to stop it dislocating again. And would you believe they still all smoked cigarettes. Stopping the smoking let Dad put on weight, enough to give him strength to go through the operations. My mother walked into his ward, carrying his breakfast and he said, "Hello Angel" and Barbara Cartland couldn't have written a better start to a love story.

I CAN'T SAY I WASN'T WARNED

I was told I would fall flat out when everything was settled but, hey, I can handle that.
I can't.
The migraine has been followed by total inertia.
The only reason the bed will be made tonight is because I dragged all the cat be-furred sheets off it this morning. I did change the doona cover, took 40 minutes to do that.
I moved one piece of furniture.
I talked the mowerman into taking out the bins for me.
I fed the birds.
I fed the cat, twice.
I had breakfast about midday.
I don't remember when I last had a shower.
I do remember when I cleaned my teeth, I threw up in the basin, bloody migraine.
I am surrounded by things I must do but can't be bothered summoning up the energy.
In my mind everything has magically sorted itself into its proper place without any trouble but the reality is that they're still sitting on the floor.
I don't want chocolate.
I don't want a G&T.
I don't even want ice-cream.
Why am I in the pit?
Because the whole ghastly parade of my life is in photographs that I've inherited from mother. Every time I pick up another page to keep or throw out, there I am in the middle of another miserable memory. My mother said I was a quiet child, always sitting in a corner if we went out. Did she ever think to fucking ask why I did this? I was terrified of everything around me, people, noise, new places, kids being kids, cruel mostly.
So what does this have to do with now?
Buggered if I know but it's great therapy to tear up photos.

DIM THE LIGHTS

Tip toe to the centre of the stage.

Raise the red curtains.

Spotlight.

AND THE FAT LADY SINGS......................


Oh, I just hope I'm not being premature with the celebrations.
The bank accounts are closed.
The pension transferred to St. George.
The final account from SE Water has arrived.
The Will has been signed and solicitor paid.

I think it's all finished. I can start shredding papers. I can think about getting a life.

THE FAT LADY CAN HIT A HIGH NOTE NOW.........

MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA

Well, not quite but if you could have seen a little old lady dressed in pink, holding a pink Japanese parasol, waving a white and silver fan being driven down the streets of Mentone today then those images are what she would have looked like. Fortunately for me I can't push the wheelchair because it's too big and heavy but I was the one running in front listening to a string of commands. There were four wheelies heading for the garden cafe, just one of their haunts for cake and coffee. Next week they're off to the Sportsman's Club in Mordialloc. They've given up trying to have fish and chips at the pier and there goes my dream of seeing mother beating off seagulls with her pink parasol.
I did have an absolute brainwave on the way to the cafe as it's halfway between the home and her solicitor, so I rang to see if her will was ready. It was, the secretary came down, she witnessed it, one of the social workers witnessed it and one more thing is off the list.
AGL has given me a 53 cent credit for the gas bill. There's no way I can collect a stupid amount like that but just think of how many households have given up 53 cents and those money grabbers are way out in front.
I've put loads of loot in her home trust account, more credits on her mobile and the only thing that would make her more happy is to take my shiny homyped shoes off my feet. I'll try them on her on Sunday and if they fit, I'll buy her a new pair. After all a geisha has standards.
She has developed an allergy on her face and the nurses can't work out what from but with all the wind we've been having, she only needs a spot of pollen on her skin to start something up. It's why we never take her flowers or give her perfume so the girls are checking the rooms for any pollen type flowers. I'm glad I didn't listen to family and bought her the mobile, just being able to ring me last night made her feel better especially after the third call.
The daughter of the new lady in the room still doesn't get the message about personal space. The nurse I spoke to tonight said that there were far too many visitors in the room last night, not only was my mother ill and tired but new lady was exhausted as well. I really hate to have to put it in writing and make an official complaint as I'm not the one in the room but the directors have noticed and now that I've spoken up, will quietly have a word.
So after all my doing good things all day, I came a cropper. I might have paid off mum's credit card but I forgot to close it down, jeepers charges! If her pension goes into St George tomorrow then I can go and close cheque and credit card down. How stupid to think because it was paid off that it went away. I plead stress and hysteria.
Only two letters to come, Dept. of Ageing and the final water account and I'm finished. What a bloody nightmare.

"MADNESS IN THE MEADOW"

That's the name Van Cleef and Arpels have given this one off piece of jewellery. The centre stone is a six point, twenty-one carat mauve sapphire surrounded by smaller mauve sapphires and diamonds. I would love to see this particular sapphire up close and personal, just to see if it glows like this. Twenty one carats of mauve loveliness and that is one big chunk of rock that could only be carried to perfection by a large red-headed tart with champagne tastes on beer money.

SOME IDIOT GETS MONEY FOR THESE IDEAS

Behold, a traffic light sandwich for the kiddies' lunch box. Cheese on the bottom, tomato up one end and lettuce down the other and make sure the cheese shows in the middle. You will notice the crusty bits have been sawn off so the little horrors don't break their teeth.
If I picked this up I would have every ingredient down the front of me in two seconds.
Not even June Cleaver would go this far.

I'M ON THE DOWNHILL SLIDE

Dear little man at Optusnuts, you with the silly musketeer moustache and chin fluff, next time check the bloody number and make sure you haven't transposed two of them. No I didn't get the Optusnuts message because it was in a box in my bag on the way to the home in a noisy bus.
Now that is fixed and I'll take the phone back to mummy on Sunday.
The final reading arrived from AGL, paid and done.
The NOT final reading arrived from SE Water with an enormous credit. I rang up and the final account will have an even more enormous credit so as PoA, I'm transferring it to my sister's account. I have an enormous credit balance on my SE Water account so I'm either not showering enough or not doing enough washing of clothes or watering the garden.
The second draft of the will arrived and I still think he's leaving everything to the cat. Call the office and tell them he'll have to walk round to the home and get the signature but ring first in case they're cavorting at the Sportsman's Club in Mordialloc or coffee-ing at the Lolly Jar or stripping the shelves at the Chinese Emporium.
My phone bill arrived.
All this before I was outside the gate this morning.
Cab it to the home and grab the mobile, give mother her new book, pay up for lunch on Sunday and walk to the bus stop. Just remembered I have a scratchie in my purse, I could be rich and exhausted.
Damn, Big W doesn't have paint sample pots anymore.
Then Optusnuts where I look at mobile phone covers for mother but since they cost almost as much as the phone, I give them miss. Wish I could have crushed the feet of rampaging munchkins.
Shop at Safeway. Backtrack when I remember I now have a cat who likes to eat. Backtrack again because I forgot the parrot bells. So much backtracking I forget to buy chocolate or ice-cream. Faint at sight of the money going out. Bloody cat and expensive sparkly kitty litter.
Pay bills at Post Office where I find out about the difference between credit and debit on a water bill. Stupidly buy copy paper because it's cheap but still weighs a tonne and I have to carry it.
"THE BANK" is next. The least the tart could have done was ask me to sit down as I produced passport, bank cards, Power of Attorney, cheque book and the account I wanted to start up. Then I couldn't deduct the amount of money to deposit to get the balance left in the cheque account. A bit like last night when I couldn't for the life of me remember what street I lived in and just kept pointing a finger in the general direction.
Sneak everything out of the NAB and hide it so they can't have the interest until I move the pension to St. George.
Sit down for coffee and tiramisu. Bad mistake, somewhere under the table my feet went on strike and starting yelling for better working conditions.
Mustn't forget New Scientist magazines even though I'm still reading September's editions and spot new bead mag which I couldn't resist. Now if I could just reach the beads and get time to do something.
I am heading for the taxi rank, I detour for the salad bar and then I'm home, just in time to carry all the groceries inside. Actually it was good timing as he has been delivering my bags for so long with the only tip being a bag of lemons when they're ripe. He has always loved the large chimes at my front door and today I gave him the chimes from mum's place. I would have put them up at the back door but front, back and side chimes might be just a bit too much for the whinging neighbours.
Ring sister who repeats her request for copies of what's going on in case I get run over by a bus.
When I bloody know what's going on, I'll tell her.
And her Avon lady's gone on long service leave, could I ring mine and put in an order for her?
Superwoman does but only because she said I could keep the pretty silver bag the stuff comes in.
And I need a new hard drive.
And more gin.
And the cat's missing somewhere.
What doesn't kill you, makes you strong.
Pig's bum, it just drives you to drink, drugs and gambling.

RIGHT ON TARGET FOR THE FEBRUARY 2 BREAKDOWN

It's been a joyful day again, full of lovely stress and dealing with lovely people who are forced to work for moronic companies who couldn't tell bum from nose or in the colourful vernacular, wouldn't know if a yellow cab was up them until the doors flew open.
SE Water put a direct debit through on a house that was sold on Jan. 15. I pointed out that I'd stopped the DDs before that and why hadn't I had a final account? Ah, people who love me, the final account doesn't arrive until the solicitor sends in the papers of sale and then it takes up to two weeks to arrive at the place where they scab money from the punters. I'll get a refund though.
AGL next. What would we do for complaints without that empire of incompetance? I've paid the electricity account and ring up for the final gas account. The final total seems very small so I ask for a complete check. "Oh my," she says, "that was a mess." She goes away to confer with accounts expert and the money goes up but not as much as I thought it would. Apparently when I ring for a total, they give me electricity and gas together even though I 've finalized one. The account will arrive shortly.
Centrelink Confusion Office did exactly that so I grabbed every piece of paper that I might need and decide to arrive in person. That's after I print out the bank statement. That's when the printer fritzed itself so I hand write everything. While I'm copperplating the account, the wind outside goes bang and so does my phone wire and internet connection. Panic because I haven't securely logged out of my bank account. Much swearing and more credits used up on the mobile trying to get a taxi.
Centrelink un-confuses me. Lets me use their computer to print out the bank statement and I'm impressed at the speed. I might consider broadband except for what comes next. All mum's details are being processed. Her pension will go down but I can put most of the money in a high interest savings account and leave what I like in her cheque account. Hopefully they don't decide to put up the accommodation fee while the pension is going down. I see the bank tomorrow and do all of this then piss off the NAB for not giving me a cheque book and just annoying me in general.
Trundle up to grab a cab to see mother when I pass the Gem shop, almost pass the Gem shop.
I must go in, I need to find out if Grandmother's ring has diamonds or glass. Neither, they are man-made spinels but quite good quality for the 30s so I arrange to have the missing one replaced. (don't think of cost) While I'm here I might as well buy the two CZs to go with my alexandrite, man-made but still has a lovely colour change from purple to smokey green. So they were inexpensive, might as well have a look at citrines to go with the Peridot. Pissy colours but so we go looking in the more expensive tray. Two trillion cut rich brown/red garnets later and I'm signing for quotes for two rings that will make me very happy until I get the quotes.
Happiness lasts until I try to phone mum and tell her about Nana's ring. Optusnet informs me that this number has been disconnected. Didn't I spend most of Monday on the phone to optusnuts making sure it was connected? Of course I did. Tomorrow I'm going up there and I'm going to break that little halfwit's legs and I can do it because I'm bigger than he is and I only have to fall on him completely by accident to do damage.
There was my day and it hasn't finished, I'm on the third Gin and tonic and I can still type. I'll need a fourth to calm down as a whole Toblerone didn't do a thing. It'll be the pills next or the Port.

RUN NOW HAZELBLACKBERRY, RUN FAST

I shouldn't do that to HB who will now really need a bex and a good lie down.
I have two of these.
One in the letter box but he's eating the black spiders so he's safe.
The other is living in the old fridge out the back and that's only been there a week.
I found him when he ran over my hand when I was looking for the cat last night and did I need oxygen after that.
Fortunately I had the torch to see where he ended up when I flung him into space.
I had the torch because I couldn't find the cat.
One whole hour I searched for that flaming cat, in the dark, with a torch....and spiders.
I have five Orb spiders, five that I found.
Two in the apple tree branches.
One going from the outside of the apple tree to the spouting on the house so there's no going up the path to get washing off the line after 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
Another is still spinning from my bedroom window to the Mandarin tree.
So with my trusty Dolphin Lantern I walked around the tree to get up the side of the house.
And I thought the others were big.
This was the Godzilla of Orbs.
The web went from the Mandarin tree to the fence and down to the ground.
So realizing I was surrounded by trees, I swung the light in every direction before tiptoe-ing at a ripping pace to the safety of home sweet home.
Bloody cat sauntered in 20 minutes later and parked itself on my bed in front of the fan.

ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW

Today I found out that glass is still semi fluid so that a very, very old mirror is always thicker at the bottom than the top because the glass flows.
It explains a lot about the ever descending tits and bum of fat old ladies. I wonder if my feet are getting larger?
And men? Lordy that's going to set me crotch watching again.
An enquiring mind can be a hazard.

Also today, I found out that there is a great whopping GST on funerals.
Even the dead can't escape the money grabbers in Canberra.

I'M BEHIND MYSELF (a great hiding place)

Twenty minutes into today and I'm still getting over yesterday which is why I'm not in bed sound asleep.
I would have been out and away but I waited for the post since AGL have only sent the electricity bill and not the gas bill. Still waiting for SE Water as well. Once I've paid those then it's off to Centrelink with the masses of paperwork.
Down to see mother with a new mobile phone and a new portable DVD player. She didn't want a television, the player is enough and I bought the one with the 9 inch screen which plays for 5 hours without being plugged in, after it's been charged up. That should stop her from yanking the cord out and breaking the wires.
And do I care that she's going to be completely confused with all the instructions, not on yer nelly! She has plenty of young'uns used to these new-fangled contraptions and they get to help her.
After guiding her through bingo and eating her chocolate prizes, it was up to the Council chambers to put in the cat registration papers, proof of microchipping, proof of sterilization and a reminder that now I get to pay for the beast in April.
Down the lane, across the road and set up a collection date for the op-shop stuff and successfully leave the shop without buying one thing, not even a book.
Walk further down to post mother's letters. One to Aunt Selma who is threatening to come down for their combined birthdays in March. (the joy of tearing up some of her old photos is making me quite giddy)
Now right to the other end of Mentone to the solicitor's to put in the corrected papers for the new will which is written in legalese, not English and probably leaves everything to the cat.
I decided then that I would have a meal and a glass of red at the pub for tea. Halfway through the rather nice red, I remembered the cat. See, I can't even be responsible for a 16 year old moggie but I had left food, water and kitty litter and it was still light when I got home. I took her for a walk round the garden and she consented to sit on my lap for half an hour, only because the fan was blowing her way. She's now back in the sewing room, where she's made a comfortable bed on my snowy white Broderie Anglais tri-pillow.
Snowy white it was, but a domestic black and white short hair that isn't supposed to shed, has and the cover is unbelievable.
Somewhere in all this, my mother has volunteered me to make two hair combs for the Chef. I really should stop stuffing my face long enough to listen to what she's saying. I didn't miss the "Will you be here for lunch on Sunday?" though.

SHOPPING WITH YOUNG LADIES

After a heading like that, my advice is not to do it.

Antikva and I were practically holding each other up as we watched her daughters try on the most vertiginous stilletos I've ever seen.
Her ankle wasn't good and my knees were curling up in horror.

Youngest bought a very pretty pair of fuschia coloured 6 inchers which I loved.
In fact I loved every pair in the shop except those with the inbuilt platform soles, hate them.

See it makes you feel really old when you know you'll never wear anything as pretty as these shoes ever again. The only thing you can hope for is Homeyped clodhoppers in glitter.


In case anyone's worrying about the cat, don't bother. It has left the middle of my queen bed exactly 7 times in 36 hours and one of those was when it tried to sleep on my aching feet and got chucked off.
It already knows where the food is, kitty litter, water dish, bed and not to go out in the dark where the possums are hiding.

AND SO IT CONTINUES

How does one cope with a three month settling?
I have to be out at sparrow's fart tomorrow to drop off the keys to people who don't realize how long it takes if you don't have a car.
Then Centrelink to pick up more papers.
Then Southland to finish the shopping I didn't do today when I was phoned and told the cat was on the way.
My sister wanted to know why I was so long.
I wasn't stupid enough to tell her I was buying a mobile phone for mum. Just a plain no frills phone, $39 and $50 credit so people can call her. I'll discuss with the girls in charge just who will keep it and give it to her when a call comes in. It's in my name and if she annoys me I'll take it away.
I have netting all over the gate and a ute in the drive way.
I have a black and white furball sound asleep in the middle of my queen bed and I don't think it's going to move.
I've had to ring AGL, SE Water and Mastercard. It seems their various departments don't share information about a house that has been sold.
I have two pages to fill out about the change of address for the cat and I have to produce copies of its microchip and sterilization certificates.
I had to produce my passport at Optusnet to prove I wasn't a terrorist. All the terrorists I've heard about have a passport.
The new fridge is here and what a pain. It opens opposite to the old one so crashes into the wall when the door opens but on the good side, after 2o years it's nice to see a light go on inside. The old one is sitting pathetically outside and I feel as though I've just shot the family dog. 39 years of faithful service and still going strong when I unplugged it. The new one is too tall but I won't see the dirt. Still haven't put the shelves in, I have to wash them first and that too much like hard labour.
Did I mention I was tired? So tired I paid my visa payment twice.
I need a holiday.

I LOVE THE WILD LIFE

I have an Orb spider. The first one for years but did it have to spin the web between the Mandarin tree and my bedroom window then do a 180 turn and spin it across my window?
I can't wait for the first AGL gas reader to hit it head on.

In the cool of tonight I washed my hair and wound a towell around it until I had put the tea on.
Ran some gel through and combed. Combed a giant silverfish out of my hair eeeww! He was nicely dead and very clean but I really hope he was hiding in the towell.

I have a big red rashy bite on my shoulder blade from something that fell out of a tree and down my dress. I can get anti-itch cream on it by pretending to be a contortionist and dislocating the other shoulder. I have no idea what it was but I did a thorough search of all clothes.

I've had a word with the Orb. I won't spray it with lethal chemicals if it eats everything else in the garden except the cat. The cat has been de-flea'd and better stay that way or I'll have another chat with the Orb.

FLEETWOOD, DON'T BE A HERO

Our beloved ditchdigging Brian is underneath all that snow. He's such a noble creature, he'd stagger out looking for food for the cats and not think of himself.

Listen lad, don't think of Scott of the Antarctic, don't be a hero, drink every bit of booze in the house and roast the cats. We'll send you replacements.

RIP OFF MERCHANTS

First off, we have a skip being delivered next week for the last of the junk.
Cost is $300.
Fair enough, it's a 4m bin.
But if we can't get it in the carport because it's lowered by a crane thingy and might hit the roof then we have to pay $65 to the council for a permit to park it on the nature strip for 24 hours.
If we don't then the bin man gets fined $200 and so do we.
I'd pay for a permit for a week but 24 hours?

Now if anybody finds a cache of redbacks would they please send them to the head office of AGL.
If anybody deserves a delivery of angry redbacks that bunch do.
I rang on the 29th of December to order a final meter reading for gas and electricity on the 15th of January. I know they told me they needed 3 working days but I decided to give them enough time to get their heads out of their backsides to do the job.

All the call centre had to do was put in the request to stop the direct debits and put a stop on all other payments (bill smoothing) until after the 15th when I received the final amount.

Too easy, I should have known.

They removed three bill smoothing amounts from an account that didn't have enough money.
Two of the amounts were rejected, insufficient funds.
They then took out 24 direct debits on the 31st of December leaving the account $681 in arrears.
I fired off an email to the bank demanding an explanation.
On Tuesday 24 direct debits were reversed.
I then had an email that said they couldn't get me any information because my name was not on the account and my PoA was only registered at the local branch.

AGL was next because yesterday I received 24 letters from them each one telling me the same thing, that they were terminating the Direct Debit service because my payments were not being processed by my financial institution.

The mature age call centre lady had enough brains to demand a supervisor immediately to clear up the mess including the amount of money they demanded for the inconveniance of dealing with me. I now have until the 14th of February to pay all accounts.

I had no problems with the insurance, in fact I had a $7.07 credit from them
I had no problems with SE water.

After all this, I'm not going anywhere Myki until Koskey the Klown hands me my ticket personally.

THERE WILL BE NO DROOLING, THEY'RE UNDER AGE

This is my beautiful 17 year old (February 2010) granddaughter

And this is my equally beautiful 15 year 0ld granddaughter.

These have been posted on Facebook so

I'm not invading any privacy

and I want to show them off.

FULL MOON SURPRISE

WITCHY DOES HAPPY DANCE.

WITCHY'S BEAUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER TURNED UP THIS MORNING.

WITCHY DOES MORE HAPPY DANCING.

STRANGE

I cannot describe how strange it is to be looking at photos of my father and realizing that he was the same age as my son would have been now.

It's the same with my mother. Looking at them at the old fashioned dinner dances, just hitting their thirties and then wondering what I was doing at that age.

I read somewhere, don't ask because I've forgotten, a man said he disliked the Mona Lisa because she had cruel eyes. When I put my hand over the bottom half of her face, I could see what he meant. I've done that a lot with photographs of me. The longer I was married, the eyes lost the smile that my mouth performed.

Old photographs are useful for memory. What year did the mirror go on the wall? How long ago did we get rid of that awful lounge suite? I thought those curtains were almost new and they've been up, how long?

But the boys, I can't look at the boys. My son with the golden curls, my nephew with the brown ones, always together. They were closer than brothers, closer than just friends, always planning trouble, in trouble or charming their way out of trouble.

There was one photograph that I wished had more detail, was larger so I could really see them. It was a rare holiday at the beach, cold enough for them to be rugged up and wearing beanies but there they were, arms around each other, standing in the waves which were slowly filling their gumboots and they were laughing. Freezing, soaking wet but laughing.

For all the New Agers that are waiting for the end of the world in 2012, blink and you'll miss it.
I blinked and 25 years disappeared.

DID I SAY THIS?

I'm sure I did say that once everything was over at my place, I could go through it at my leisure.
Decide what to keep, what to throw out, what to go to the op-shop.
Well, it's all here.
I didn't know whether the BrickOutHouse would bring it today just because he said he would.
He did and he picked me up at the home, a ride instead of bus, lovely.
He carried in a tv corner cabinet which I can barely move. It now has the tv on top and the dvd player on top of that as he was too tired to fiddle with the wires.
After looking at the rest of the stuff, I was too tired too.
After the Salvo's have been and I expect them to reject the lounge suite, the leather is too bad to fix on the chairs, then my sister gets her heart's desire and I'll hire a skip for the rubbish.
Why does everything look so much bigger in my house than it did at mother's?
Still I have a nice new half rug to go under my chair but that comes under the heading of hard work. Move the side table, take the chair off the bricks, remove old rug, look for cockroach that fell out of the mail last week, vacuum and put new rug down, also put everything back except cockroach.
Too tired for that today.
Mother has a very sore throat so rings me last night for a packet of butter menthols.
So I decide to catch the bus and walk through Coles.
It pours rain, still pouring at bus stop, still pouring as I decide to walk to the pharmacy for shelter and butter menthols. Oh goodie, Darryl Lea candies are half price, that's worth getting soaked for.
While I'm waiting for the bus, the sun comes out and is so hot it dries my soaking dress and scarf.
Mother still has a sore throat so it looks like she's getting a cold but she hopes not as her social life next week is very busy. They're going out for shopping and lunch, then Aunt Patty's coming down so they can bitch about Aunt Selma and then there's two days of bingo. I should have taken her a kilo bag of butter menthols instead of just a packet.
And just to finish off, please let there be a special place in Hell for whoever invented those monstrous magnetic photo albums. I've managed to get the photos out of one but the others are older and harder to shift. Still it has been fun tearing up the relos I've never liked not to mention the ex. I gave my sister the proofs from her wedding to tear up but by the look on her face she was going home to burn his eyes out with a cigarette.

I think I'll have some alone time tomorrow. I have candies and a book.

Shut up, Robbert, I'll get to the Post Office by the end of the week before my breakdown.

BEWARE THE NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

A full moon for the last night of 2009 but the second full moon for December, commonly called a 'blue moon'. It won't be seen as blue unless you've been siphoning the Bombay a little too much but the smoke from fireworks could turn it a red colour. Melbourne is expecting a thunderstorm about midnight, nature's fireworks and a lot less expensive.

But be careful of New Year wishes and resolutions, it's a powerful full moon and you might be forced to keep those resolutions.

I, personally, am not making any resolutions involving chocolates, Bombay Sapphire, losing weight, looking at nekkid blokes half my age, keeping my swearing to an acceptable level, playing the pokies and buying expensive books.

I will however be kind to all of my commenters because if you end up at this blog, you need all the sympathy I can give.

I'M FAMOUS

I always knew my inner glow came from starlight and here I am. That's the star Rigel and to the left is the Witchhead Nebula. I tell you, I've never looked better.

CHRISSY ON FARCEBOOK

My ex-daughter-in-law has started a zoo on Facebook.

Bwhahahahahahha.

Everytime I read that email, all that comes to mind are baboons and red bums.

*sniggers*

A SLIGHT PROBLEM OF PERSONAL SPACE

Forget it, my personal space disappeared long ago.
There is a new resident at the home and she has a large and loving family.
All of them turned up Christmas Day including the dog.
Now in a four bed room, everyone has a personal space, an unmarked line that one doesn't see but knows not to cross without invitation.
Daughter of new person moved her mother's large comfy chair right next to mum because she is supposed to practise speaking after her stroke. (They seem like the kind of family that is determined that their mother will be reciting Shakespeare in 3 weeks)
This is done down in the day room where everyone socializes not in the personal room space.
The daughter is a teacher of Goddess knows what, probably assertiveness training, given that mum feels she is being pinned to a wall every time she speaks to her.
They did move into the small lounge when the dog arrived Christmas Day.
Now this lady has only been there a week and the daughter took it on herself to give the other room residents, presents.
Not good, it's too soon to get an idea of what they can and cannot have. My mother is allergic to Jasmine in any shape or form and I got to her before she put the cream on her hands.
One of the other ladies has alzheimers and various skin cancers so this bombastic tart decided to rub the cream on her arms and legs for her. My sister works in Aged Care and she was horrified and said it was tantamount to assault because she wasn't family.
Now what we love about this home is the quietness (apart from Mary who swears and yells all day). The residents get to introduce their family members after a time getting to know the other residents and if they don't want to, they don't. We're not getting the chance with this bouncy broad, she bounces like a St. Bernard off a leash. It was straight in my face with an outstretched hand and a hoowdy do.

A quiet word with the DoN next week without making a big deal should do the trick.

TIS THE SEASON

All year I cement over the cracks in my heart where it breaks. It's never whole, there's always another broken piece that needs putting back. I almost make it but along comes Christmas, the great solvent, and it disintegrates with such swiftness that the flow of sorrow overwhelms the mind. I weep and mend by leaving Christmas outside the door but this year the door wouldn't stay closed and not one person mentioned his name. Time does not heal all wounds.

HO HA HO HA

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

SPIDERS AND VIPERS

Up again, 1.30 in the am and all because I couldn't be bothered grabbing the washing basket to bring the clothes in off the line. I just unpegged them and threw them across my shoulder which is how I was bitten by a spider just above the left one. It is itching like crazy even with Teatree oil applied. I missed a bite by the black spider in the letter box and I don't have to worry about that one anymore given the size of the huntsman that came out on the top letter this afternoon so it's spider season.
I'm not happy about this. Spider bites have been a worry ever since I watched that movie 'The Believers' where the bite on the star's face came up nice a red then hatched a million baby spiders out of her cheek. If this bite starts getting lumpy then I'll be ready to do a Ripley with something flaming.

My sister is black and blue. She fell from the chest of drawers, hit the bookcase, bounced, hit the bedside table and ended up jammed into a very small space. So much for washing down walls. She has strong bones, no broken hip, no cracked spine, just shock and technicolour bruises.

My mother is furious, my sister is furious and so am I. A family friend has apparently been in contact with Aunt Selma and been reporting about our behaviour for the past year. Not to mention that somehow he has managed to find out how much we sold the house for and told the hag. Even Aunt Patty was furious that he turned up at the home yesterday, invited by Aunt Selma who neglected to tell mother. So mother's marbles are in good order at the moment but as anyone who's been reading this blog will know, she was absolutely nuts for most of 2009 and this idiot has been telling Goddess know what to the moron of a sister.

I found out all of this when I arrived at the home at 9.10, loaded with hand held phone, bloody parrot bells, Christmas cards and Pavarotti videos. I was so early because of the heat and I was home by 11 but my heat didn't go down until I stopped fuming about the viper in the nest. It didn't help getting a letter from the solicitor setting out all the things I have to do before settlement day. My sister informs me that on top of everything else, we have a flea plague and the house will have to be fleabombed. At least, she's come around to my suggestion that I hire a truck and get everything here in one hit and dispose of it later. So if anyone wants a white Queen Anne dressing table with wing mirrors, email me. I also have a pine kitchen table with white painted legs and matching chairs and a slightly knocked about but still good 3 seater leather lounge with two matching chairs, sage green colour. They're free, you only have to pick them up. The cat is not for sale, ut and uts fleas are belong to me.

FEATHER TREES

This was the first artificial Christmas tree and they were originally made in Germany as early as 1845. By the mid-19th century, decorated trees were more popular than ever; however, in Germany deforestation was widespread, especially during the Christmas holiday season. It had become the fashion to chop off the tip off a large Fir tree to use as a Christmas tree; however, this practice prevented the tree from growing taller and thus made it useless as a timber tree. Statutes were enacted to limit people from having more than one tree, hence protecting the forests. With the introduction of the "goosefeather" feather tree, this problem was resolved.

Goose feathers were plentiful and these feather trees began to be produced as a cottage industry as the alternative to cutting a live tree. The goose feather tree became the first artificial Christmas tree. Metal wire or sticks were covered with goose, turkey, ostrich or swan feathers. The feather sticks were drilled into a larger one to resemble the branches on a tree.
The trees were made to resemble the locally growing white pines of the German forest and the composition "berries" on the end of every branch tip were made to hold lit candles.

The wide spaced branches of feathers, sometimes dyed green, were made to show off the ornaments and I love that this tree is full of birds. Now I've been wanting to make a feather tree for years and I collect feathers every time I'm out walking. The small trees look good in corners where a big tree dominates a room. My tinsel tree is still sitting in the wardrobe for another year but I have a Father Christmas on the mantle.

**********************************************************

I tried to make a phone call to mum this morning since the Bouvier sisters are calling this afternoon. Their hand held phone is fritzed again for the third time and guess whose mother has done it in for the third time. The first time they managed to get it back, second time, it cost $200 and now it looks as though they're up for a new one, cost $1300. I should have told them that if she was given anything remotely buggerupable to make sure she had an instruction sheet with the off button circled.

I'd just hung up my phone when I realized that mum's handheld phone is on the floor, saved from the family chuckers when I was packing up. It's all cleaned up, battery in and just needs to be charged but the phone jack part is missing and I think it's in another box that hasn't arrived yet. At least with this on the go, the nurses' station can keep the other one out of mum's hands.

Do I have to trumpet again to this family, don't throw anything away that might be useful?

WHO NEEDS A CHRISTMAS STAR

This image was taken by Bjornar G. Hansen during the December Geminid meteor shower. The meteor flashed through the sky over the island of Kvaloya, near Tromso, Norway on December 13. Not only a meteor flash but also the Aurora Borealis in full glow. The Aurora are caused by energetic charged particles from the magnetosphere at altitudes of 100 kilometres above the earth.

WELL IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO LIKE THIS...

I'd stay in bed all morning, reading magazines or hemming my dress for this afternoon but it went like this.
Ring Department of Ageing to check on how much money mum can have before it affects her pension.
They say ring Centrelink, it's their department.
Centrelink says they do this all the time when it's their department and what I have to do is scream for a supervisor.
Centrelink, sweet man, tried to to his best but could only give me a rough idea.
If after all the bills are paid and she has roughly $200,000 then they will reduce her pension since the cutoff point is $137,000.
So if her asset is now $200,000 instead of the original assessment of $351,000 then they will assess the assets again and drop the extra amount we had to pay the nursing home on top of the daily fee. And after the settlement I also have to appear in person at Centrelink with all closed accounts and the official amount of money remaining.
Are you still with me, because I was gaga by this time.
He assured me that she probably would be better off financially.
I wasn't assured at all.
Then I find out that I haven't got a something or other official to receive letters from Centrelink for mother so have to go to Centrelink in person.
But I filled out those forms for Dept. of Ageing. That doesn't matter they don't share.
So I'm off to Centrelink with passport, ring taxi, wait 20 minutes, fortunately as the postie comes and her ATM card is expiring, would I bring passport and other ID to get a new one.
Okay bus to Southland, bypassing my favourite gem store where I drool along the window.
Fix ATM card when ditsy bint finally figures out that I can have the card in my name as the card I'm using for mum is in my name.
Catch bus to Mentone and drop papers off to solicitor and trade insults with him as he's off on his Christmas holidays. I tell him not to upset a stressed out sick person who has a semi-automatic on her Santa list.
Walk to the home, dead on feet by now. They insist I sit down and have a drink. I need $1500 in a big hurry. I can barely describe how divine the chair is that I threw myself into. When you lean back into it, it rocks gently but when you get up it locks in place so you don't fall a over t.
None of the oldies can use it, they need wheelchairs. I want it, I can still feel the gentle rocking, backwards and forwards, and the pain in my back disappeared and I felt warm and fuzzy to the whole world. I want that chair, I need that chair, my life will be nothing without that chair.
Christmas Party was over by six o'clock and it was beddy time for the residents so I waste precious credits calling for a cab then have to run back inside and give mum some money.
I've already paid for my Christmas dinner so she's happy that I can't get back until Friday.
She's unhappy that I didn't drag those bloody parrot seed bells all over creation so she could watch the feeding frenzy.
And tomorrow I'm staying in bed with my magazines and a packet of jelly beans which I must have bought a week ago and forgotten.
I could really do with that chair.

THE PERFECT GIFT

Well, you know how it is when you've unpacked the groceries and realized you haven't bought one block of chocolate or tub of ice-cream so the natural thing is to browse every food blog you have on your blogroll and THERE IT IS!

The perfect Christmas gift forHawtAndrew , a gingerbread tram with all the trimmings.

YES, I'M CROOK, OFFICIALLY

No, it's not swine flu although he asked if I wanted the vac but changed his mind after listening to the song and dance going on behind my breast bone.
It's some bacterial bug that's taken up residence in my right lung which accounts for the strange little whistling noise I've been hearing.
Probably the bug version of Christmas Carols.
One bug clan decided to explore and ran through my kidneys and downhill from there. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out.
The Doc asked if I felt crook. I said yes but what I really wanted to say was, "yes, you twit otherwise why would I spend a fortune on getting a taxi down here because I couldn't get the bus because it was raining again and I feel dizzy and couldn't stand up straight in the shower and bashed my knee on the bath and didn't feel like walking".
It sounds convoluted but then I'd just given the taxi driver a $5 tip in my spaced out condition so no wonder he wanted to stick around and drive me home.
Now a tip from the walking wounded, don't sit down for a cuppa at Southland and take an antibiotic you haven't taken before.
Because you'll get halfway round Safeway and break out in a sweat and lean over the trolley like Rh on a loquat bender. At this stage I was heading for the bird bells and when I got home, it appears I've squandered $30 on those feathered freeloaders just so mother can watch reality television. There'll be so many lorikeets there next week, I'm worried David Attenborough will turn up.
I still have to head off for the residents Christmas Party tomorrow but only because I have more papers for the solicitor and I don't want to miss putting those in. Very nice strong upright signature the buyer has, well against mine which meanders across the page like a caterpillar on speed.
It had better not be raining either. I need a taxi. I'm not carrying 6 kgs of seed bells up to the bus.

RIGHT YOU LOT, SYMPATHY, IN BUKKITS OR ELSE

"Or else", it would be or else but I can't think of anything to do to youse lot that you haven't already done to yourself or will do before JollyRedFatSuit comes visiting.

Wonderwoman has officially given in and is going to the doctor's tomorrow. I think I might be ill.
At least a little bit crook. Nothing serious although the thought of breakfast isn't making me gallop out of bed straight for the fridge which for me, is kind of serious. I can't seem to make it upright for about an hour after I wake up which is about 15 minutes after I figure out what day it is and whether I have to get up.

I would like sympathy, plenty of it. I've gone off chocolate. I don't feel like having a Bombay and tonic. I'm supposed to shop tomorrow as well but looking in the fridge, I'm wondering what I ate for the last two weeks. Toast, I think, given how many bread wrappers were used as garbage bags. And the peanut butter jar is empty but the jam jar is full. If the jam jar is full, I haven't eaten any croissants. I found a mince pie in the Christmas tin and I bought those last pay day.

It might be all in my head but I can't take a chance this close to the annual pig-out day. Writing that made me feel ill.

Never mind the sympathy, send bukkits.

THE BOMBAY IS READY, I'M JUST WAITING FOR THE ICE TO TURN UP

This is the break-up of the Ross Ice shelf in Antarctica in 2000. Usually the iceberg would be caught in the Antarctic Circumpolar Current but the 87 square miles (only a third of its former size) of ice named B17B was pushed north and is now floating towards Western Australia.

B17B had broken into two smaller pieces and the larger has survived in the open ocean for about a year. It is expected to break into even smaller pieces as it moves into warmer waters. The ice shelves are not part of the Antartic mainland, they float around the edges of the continent but they more they melt and break up, the faster the glacial ice flows out from the centre of the land/ice mass.

According to scientists the berg is moving at about one knot a day. New Zealand recently issued a shipping alert after a flotilla of icebergs was seen heading toward the South Island but they drifted away to the east. Seven ice shelves have broken up in 20 years due to the warming of the ocean currents around Antarctica. While B17B has been described as a once in a century event now, in the future it may just become commonplace for bergs to be seen this near to Australia.

It reminds me of a novel written by Ken Follett called "Ice" which was a very good read. It seems a shame we have no way of throwing a tow rope onto this chunk of frozen antidote to our drought.

WHEN LOLCATS AREN'T ENOUGH, THERE'S ALWAYS A CAKEWRECK

Presenting for your spewing delight.........

Poo-Dolph, the bulldozed, slain deer.

One for the doggie bag or pick up poochie pouch.

ZE HOUSE SHE IS SOLD!

It's taken from the 19th November to 9th of December with settling date of January 15 so if anyone is thinking of selling their house, try Aitken Real Estate. They couldn't have been more helpful, they don't believe in auctions and try to match a group of buyers to a certain house.

I walked to the bus stop in the pouring rain on Tuesday to make sure the signed papers were delivered to the solicitor and I was drowned so I hopped on a bus to Southland where it was dry inside. I remembered it was cheap movie day but the line was full of little twihards so I counted up the loot and booked in for Gold Class. 2012 is a movie you have to see on the big screen for the special effects. Really great when you're sitting there watching tsunamis coming from all directions and you're right in character by being soaking wet.

Yesterday was spent dragging a 7 foot bookcase down the hallway, after I dragged out all the sewing things I'd stuffed down there out of the way. Then they had to go back but there's enough room to put the books and videos on the shelves. I have to make room for the next consignment from mother's place and that is the last. I'm still packing knickknacks for the op-shop including my own. I've donated my 16 place china setting to the home for their residents parties but who would have thought I'd need a wharfie to haul plates. The boxes weigh a tonne.
Time to pull in a few favours from anyone with a ute.

Today was paying the home to keep her there, dragging down to Mentone with 3 parrot seed bells and filling in for the bingo caller. My mother making promises I can't keep. I walked past a sparkly Christmas tree and did a 180, the ceramic tree I'd lugged down was on the sideboard and it looked fantastic. I really liked it probably because it didn't involve stringing Christmas lights and putting Christmas dolls and bears and tinsel and crap all over mum's windows.

Tomorrow I'm going to be so tired I'm spending the day in bed with several books and a block of chocolate and trying not to think about the 100 or so CDs that need to go in the CD tower or that the coffee set that should be so shiny in the mirrored cabinet is a gross shade of black or that I'm running out of knickers again.

THERE IS SOME STRESS CHOCOLATE DOESN'T HELP NO MATTER WHAT PROF. LUPIN SAYS

Saturday night brought in four good offers, well above the starting price but Monday, the agent had one of those offers go up another 5 thousand.
It was a curious thing that while she was telling me the story, she doodled on the offer sheet without thinking and had written "dad came to help". A 'curious thing' as it was the day before the anniversary of my father's death. So the buyer's father had come up with more cash than everybody else and I was happy because she intended to renovate and live in the house.
Then the waiting game begins. The deposit was supposed to be paid December lst with the financial arrangements done by December 4th but they've asked for an extension until next Friday.
No problem says the agent as they're probably going through a broker looking for the best deal in light of the interest rate rise.
Ring solicitor and give permission.
Have monumental panic attack in Lincraft. All those shiny baubles and lights and people and fecking Christmas carols shortcircuited the brain so I went and hid in the curtains until I got some control back. Yes, I was the dill with my head in a paper bag hyperventilating behind the shantung curtains down the back of Lincraft.
To round off yesterday I have a monumental fight with stupid 'let's throw everything in a skip' sister. I know why I hate mobile phones, she got to hang up on me before I could bash mine down.
Really stressed now.
How stressed? I was up at 4 a.m. eating chocolate and reading Harry Potter. Neither worked.
But staggering to the bus stop, tensed to the max, I was offered a lift by a lady who's seen me at Southland (not with my head in a paper bag, I hope). Lovely, I could get the bus from there. Another lady on the bus recognised me from Dingley Market and remembered all the craft we used to make.
An old friend of Dad's was visiting Mum and we really had a laugh about the old days when being a pool playing layabout was almost respectable. This was all good as she couldn't see the bags and dark shadows under my eyes until later. I distracted her with giant seed bells for the freeloading feathered blackmailers she loves but she doesn't miss much these days.
My brain was still in freefall when I decided to bypass sister and go to the BrickOutHouse.
Good move, he's picking me up Sunday and we're going through the house and deciding what comes here, what he wants me to keep, what to throw out and what date I ring the Diabetes collection people to pick it up. Then we'll decide on a day to hire a van and do the lot in one day, a suggestion I'd made 2 months ago to the "Skip Queen".
Stress-0-meter is now slowly sliding to manageable.
Probably won't speak to sister for a week or January.