I haz an egzorshon

His clothes are finally all packed then I looked down and there's no way I'm packing up his shoes.
So just in case you thought I was kidding about the hall way, here's proof.  Just beyond that hatbox which is balanced on a box of something, there is a door.  Once upon a time I could walk through here to the kitchen.
This afternoon I managed to store the curtain rod behind the sofa bed and put a couple of rolls of material in a corner until I remembered I hadn't cleaned the carpet yet.  But I do have half a sewing room and now that his clothes are packed I can use the bookcase in there for some of the stuff that's down here.
The ladder can go in the laundry and the ladder in the laundry can go in the carport.  The books will have to wait for a while.  These bookcases are Ikea, useless for books of any great weight so I have to transfer the novels from the good bookcase in the study to here and transport the weighty tomes back there.
So far I have not got one perfect side to this Rubik's Cube of a clean up.
And to top off the day, I dropped an egg on the kitchen floor.
And tomorrow is mother day.
And coffee and cake day.

Toil, I still toil.

 Wondering where I've been?  In this cupboard, specifically the shelf containing fabric and believe me there's twice as much in there than there was. The rest is lace, expensive lace that is almost unobtainable now. The horrible fact is that at some stage it all has to come out or I get 4 huge blokes to move the whole cupboard to the middle of the room and back again after the wallpaper has been striped off and the wall painted. It's something I don't have to worry about just yet as the BOH and the little mother will take at least a year to organize themselves a place to live so I continue to co-exist with all his clothes and furniture.

The view from my chair. Books, slippers, empty boxes back from mother, lots of things back from mother and washing on the chair. I've been too busy folding up his clothes and packing them away to  fold mine up. Don't look at the curtain, the long and short of it. The cat did a wonderful job of shredding when it moved in and I have a beautiful pale ivory voile to replace this pathetic lot and it didn't have a hem or heading. No matter thinks I, it's only straight sewing.  I bought it two years ago, notice that, two years ago and I haven't been able to get to a machine since. I even lost the bag containing the curtain fabric but it's now been found and I'll get to it soon, maybe before Christmas, maybe. The one thing you won't notice is the floor full of DVDs, they're packed away at long last and now just the books to stack neatly. It would be nice to put them in the bookcase but that's down the hall past the stepladder, more  books, material in 6 huge plastic boxes on wheels, wooden curtain rod, and videos. The TV's still working well considering 'hernextdoor' told her husband to put it on the nature strip for junk but it wandered in to my house where it was welcomed with open arms.

 

Behind my chair, the dining table. It's under there believe me and see that small black area in front, that's where I work on my jewellery. The table was turned the other way which gave me about 2 feet of space to move in but yesterday, I picked it up (carefully) and took 20 minutes to turn it bit by bit. I was hoping the legs wouldn't fall off with the weight of it all but not even a piece of paper fell to the ground. That's my new necklace ready to be finished on the purple.

The whole place looks worse than it actually is, no, not really, it is bad.  It's softened by the Haversham affect of draped cobwebs and layered dust. The Hoover has still not been operational, after I moved the sofa bed I had to sweep again and pick up more dead socks. I think I'm just about ready for it though because the treadle machine is in the middle of the sewing room and the sewing machine will be there tomorrow. Did I say that last week?  Honestly this house is like Rubik's Cube, impossible to get all in order without moving this and that and moving it all back again until the problem is solved and I was never any good at Rubik's.

Every night I plan what to move the next day and hope it fits.  Like I said, sewing machine tomorrow along with four large boxes of ribbons which will go in the spot vacated by four of his large boxes of precious goods. The tv that sat on the treadle machine went on the small table on legs that went against the wall just nicely with enough room for those 4 boxes.  

I love it when a plan comes together.

Round in circles

That's what it feels like at the moment and I know superhouseworkers would laugh at my methods but there is a pattern to this.
Question one was do I take up where I left off two years ago in the sewing room or do I try to jam twice as much in the lace cupboard?  One look in there at the one shelf dedicated to patchwork fabric and one look at what had to go in now and I had my mind made up for me.
So I've been sitting and cutting with some success.  5 bags down to 2 is good, even better is one large garbage bag full of little scraps of no use.  This all came from Mum's and was lovely cotton but not enough to make something big but enough to cut into squares for scrap quilts. Hard core quilters look away now, if the square didn't fit one way then I cut it on the bias, a real no-no in the quilt world but not in mine.
I must digress here for a moment. I walked past a resident at the home last week and thought how bright and cheery he looked with his rug and realised it was the rug I'd crocheted for my mother-in-law 35 years ago. I had taken out the cigarette burned squares and turned it into two smaller sizes but it looked great. So who cares if a few material bits are on the bias, with my sewing it matters not.

On top of the to-do pile and it might not be soon is something special for Andrew but it looks like I might miss the birthday deadline.  Never mind, by the time it's finished he'll be the bright spot at the retirement village.  I have 3 quilts to finish but first remove the TV from the old treadle machine which is the only thing heavy enough to take a 50 year old all steel machine.  The sewing table on wheels is okay for the 30 year plastic one.  Both of which I had repaired, oiled and reconditioned ready for use, you guessed it, two years ago.

Other genius things I have done this week.  Worked out that if I put the cupboard that I am doing up, which won't get in the sewing room for years because BOH and the little mother have to find a place to live, in the middle of the carport then I can put the chipboard from the sofa bed on top of that and I will have a work bench. That's after I remove the nuts, bolts, spanners and his riding boots off the top of it.  I swear every time he couldn't find a screwdriver he went and bought another set.  And he was amazed that I managed to get the mattress and chipboard upright. "How did you do that?", the knowledge that he wouldn't get around to helping me for another two years.  Same thing about the drawer that is taking the place of the cupboard. I plan first. I knew the lid came off, chipboard, and the drawer came out, leaving the framework of good Ash and I just carried them all to the carport.  Mind you it wouldn't be outside in the weather if a certain ex had had enough brains to ask the carpenter for a solid wood lid on what was the bottom of a huge wardrobe that his grandfather had made as part of his apprenticeship at the end of the 19th century.  Sorry, off track again but I do have the dressing table that went with it and M-in-L told me never to give it to him. The old boy made the cupboard sideboard as well.

After that I swept the dirt, dust and long hair off the carpet in that room.  Lovely rose colour carpet but it's a magnet for things that stick like cotton threads and long hair and even the Hoover can't suck it up.  While I had a broom in my hand (shut up it's been a long time) I did over the kitchen floor, thinking how much space there was now that the baby change table and drawers were gone.  "Light bulb" and I was dragging all the things I'd bought for them that had been living under the dining table forever including enormous box of dinner setting for 8 and now I don't have space in the kitchen but I do have space for my feet when I'm working at the dining table.

And after all that,  the house still looks like a bomb went off.

I really must do something about the fly and spider graveyard behind my bedside table.

Stormy weather

We just had a deluge here with water coming over the spouting like Niagra Falls and now completely gone.

Don't you just love Melbourne.

I am in the middle of trying to do 2 years housework in 2 months in case of worst case scenerio like hospital.

I went to see Doc Marvin yesterday.

A handful of scripts and a puffer for trying to rid my lungs of left-over virus and I was ready to leave when I mentioned the burning under the skin of my hands, the right one is much worse than the left.

He turned over the hand and I have a very bad carpal tunnel going on.  The burning is nerve pain and I have a flat spot at the base of my thumb where the muscle should be.  It has wasted away and that why it's easier to lever off the top of the vegemite with a screwdriver instead of unscrewing the lid.  It's why I can't hold a book, peel potatoes, pull out weeds and get the lid off the gin bottle, all of which I tried on Monday. Glorious Monday, sunshine and me in the garden at 9.30 trying to pull weeds.

So now I have to go to some specialist to find out how bad the nerves have deteriorated and whether muscle therapy will help or it's day surgery to fix the problem.

I don't care if it's half hour surgery, it's hospital and I swore I'd never go back.

He said they'd put my arm to sleep, no general knock-out.

Ah, there must have been a look on my face, he also said they could give me enough happy pills to stop any anxiety and panic. 

I'm telling you there aren't enough happy pills to stop me being anxious and having a humongous panic attack even if I can't feel anything in my arm.

Pain is my friend as I try to clean up the bear pit of the lodger.  I managed to stand the mattress upright then the chipboard, forgetting to lean the chipboard and the whole lot started towards me and I'd have been flat on the steel frame but I fought valiantly and won.  OMG, what was underneath that bed.  Socks, a jacket he thought he'd lost, dust, his hair, 8 of my plates and bowls and cutlery and 3 tea towells. 

I brushed down the sofa bed and folded it all up, then I unfolded it and put in the bloody mattress then I folded it up.

I looked in the fabric cupboard for the first time in two years and started to put away all the latest patchwork fabric. Ouchie and more ouchie, pain in hand, burning, pain up arm and all from folding fabric.  

Looks like I bite the bullet and make the appointment as soon as possible. Damnfeckdamn.

On a good note, I've seen the baby.  He is a sweetie, lovely shaped little head, long fingers, ideal for a pianist or a pickpocket, chicken legs and long feet.  They seem to be coping quite well and Doc Marvin is the only doctor they want for him. I think the Doc was quite chuffed at that.

I have mother all squared away.  I took all her little boxes off her and tore them up.  She now has 6 large boxes and believe me that's downsizing for ma. I brought all the spare cards and paper home and she only gets back what she uses. Bad enough doing my housework without doing hers. 

And sister, yeah, great help.  Couldn't care a fig, more or less said suck it up and this after two years of me having her kid here, rent free.  Now you see why I buy her birthday present in January because by September we are rarely on speaking terms.

And what's really killing me is the two parcels that arrived from America this week containing my new glass paints and glossies. I was going to get started on my painted canisters (moccona coffee jars) and wine glasses and candle holders. The glossies were for dollying up the gnomes in the garden. But I'm stuck with two years of housework.

Another thing about this stupid complaint is that I can make jewellery with pliers and wire but can't thread and knot pearls.  Thumbing through 100 or so craft magazines didn't help either.  Pulling the ring tops off vodka cans is okay but squeezing the orange juice is a bugger.

Best Olympic photo ever

Brass medal to the suggestion that we'll win more medals if children are forced  to do sport at school.

I was forced to do sport and hated every minute of the time I spent on the ground after falling over or off equipment.  Falling from the uneven bars left me winded and thinking I was dying. I nearly broke a leg falling over the hurdles and they weren't even upright. I had big boobs, running caused injuries to anyone near me.

Swimming wasn't bad but I kept forgetting which side I had to breathe and usually swam to the bottom of the pool.  Diving?????  You couldn't get me to climb up the ladder.  Basketball, forget that although I wish I could forget falling on asphalt and skinning knees, elbows and knuckles.

So you could say I'm not in favour of forcing anyone to do sport if they're not suited to it.  It would be like forcing sporty types to do needlework.  I haven't forgotten the PE teacher who nearly broke my neck forcing me to do a forward roll over a vaulting horse. I like watching the gymnastics but I feel the pain again after all these years. Woman truly was a bitch.

I didn't buy it.

Mum had a friend buy it for me and it was delicious and I only had one slice, large.  The rest we gave to our favourite nurses for their evening cuppa.
My granddaughters rang for my birthday, lovely surprise.  Both are doing well and making their own way in life. Their mother is in Botswana, with a church group, building houses for the poor.  Considering the way in which she brought up her own girls, she's racking up Karma big time.
Not a groat left in their Trust Fund, money that should have lasted until they were at least 20.  Not after she picked it clean.  Eldest granddaughter using information I gave her, checked with the Trust and found out the whole deal.  Mother dearest might have provided receipts and invoices for items bought but nothing stopped her from selling them on and keeping the cash for herself.  She even did this with the house the Judge demanded she buy for the children.  His mistake was not putting in writing that the house was to belong to the girls or if sold, the money should be returned to the trust or another house bought. She sold the house exactly 12 months later to avoid paying tax on the sale and pocketed the loot.  I have never forgiven her for that on a long list of 'not forgivens'.
I cost me a fortune to make a will tying up this house and money so that she could never get her hands on it and it went to the girls.  Even then they weren't to have it until they turned 25 but it looks like I will get to see them reach that age, terrific.
I am always polite to the bitch when I meet her, secret knowledge makes me serene and she will never accumulate enough Karma to undo the damage she's done to every person who ever crossed her path.
Just thinking about it upsets me and I wish I still had that cake.

It's just another day

It's that day again where I go into the streets and frighten the horses by wobbling the wrinkles at them.

Is it champagne and cake, no, it's visit with Mummy day where she gets to remind me how old I am.

I did have one bit of luck, the BOH has left a can of vodka at the back of the fridge and it's all mine.

Do you realize that because it's my birthday it means that this year is past the half way mark to 2013?

Oh well, another day older and deeper in debt.

When all's said and done, the only age I'd go back to is 2004 when I'd lost 20 kgs and the housework was done and I could leap tall buildings with a single bound.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

I'm still breathing and sniffing and coughing.

Damn virus seems to have embedded itself in my DNA much like the malware which is still haunting the rootkit defying all attempts to dislodge it from the computer.

I was okay yesterday but today the squeak is back in my lung and the headache is warming up at the back of my eyes.

I haven't seen the baby yet nor has anyone sent photos via email.  Stupid iphones that take photos, doesn't do me any good unless I receive one or two via computer.  I am still waiting for the chipboard and mattress to be removed so I can get into that room and fold up the sofa then I can pack up the rest of his clothes and shut the door on the last two years.  Mind you, his habit of dropping change anywhere near the bed was handy if I only had large notes for the taxi fare, a bit of scrabbling around and I could usually count on 5 dollars in hand.

I've tried shopping on line again but it's not really working for me. Okay for when I don't feel well like the last three weeks but I'm still off to Southland tomorrow for bits and pieces. There's no provision for ordering one of something, like one carrot and last time I ended up with 10 tomatoes and 5 zucchini and how do I get across that I only need a really tiny piece of pumpkin.  I have a feeling that two bags that arrived this morning were not mine, I didn't order two bottles of White King toilet cleaner nor stir fry vegetables, stir fry Chinese greens, yes and they were on the delivery list.  And I do like my bread to be square not squashed into several different shapes which I have to straighten out before it goes in the freezer.

I've also had three phone calls asking for my ex-husband.  I didn't bother to ask what they wanted except for the one this morning.  Terrific, I'm really going to put my trust in Origin power when they don't know the real owner of the house and they want to speak to the man of the house instead of the woman answering the call.

I really think that this time I was entitled to tell them to piss off.

I am reading blogs but commenting needs a full brain and mine's off somewhere waiting for spring. I'm also reading books but biographies make me feel inadequate and television seems to have nothing but "fat people are killing the earth" stuff on but I am waiting for the finale of Masterchef to see who gets the gong. I watch it because all that hard work makes me to lazy to cook anything beyond toast and vegemite or boiled eggs.

Not watching the Olympics either.

Not eating chocolate, can't taste it.  

Chocolate eclair, two weeks ago was delicious. I'm living on the memory of it.

Damn virus.

I am sick of running eyes, clogged up running nose, sneezes that could power a jet engine, coughing up bits of lung and headaches. 

Mind you I have developed a rapid response reflex with my thigh muscles when I feel a sneeze coming on otherwise it would be Depends time.

The damn virus has entrenched itself like the stinking bit of malware that is still hiding in a rootkit in the middle of the computer. I keep killing off bits of it so the malware tells me but it must regenerate overnight, much like this rotten cold.

This is the first time I've been able to sit at the computer without wanting to fall off the chair. Actually my chair by the fire is the place where I've done most of my sleeping and coughing.

The little mother finally left hospital today and the BOH has gone over to stay with her.  They kept the baby in because he wasn't feeding well but he's got the hang of it now. I'm waiting on photos to post of something that is only 43 centimetres long and my computer monitor is longer than that. I can't remember them being so small.

Anyway there seems to be some movement on the house front, thank goodness.

Poor me, I can't go to see mother until I feel this virus is gone, about two months should do it.

I still say Werther's Original toffees are the best for the throat followed by Fisherman's Friend.  And if you do buy the FF, read the packet because now they have a ziplock top, found that out after hacking at it with the scissors at the wrong end.

And just to liven things up, the new smartmeter is in and I can't understand a word of the instructions.  The gum tree across the street has busted up the watermains again and this time the stupid Council should take it down.  It's the third time it's happened but they keep insisting it's a tree of note and is on the register. The electricity choppers keep taking out the centre away from the lines but it just means the branches are growing across the road my way and across the inground pool the other way.  A bit of common sense would be nice but we are dealing with the local council here.

It's like trying to deal with a virus, you get nowhere fast.

Sick, real sick not 'fully sick'

Mother has been very generous with her germs.  My chest refuses to breathe properly and someone has poured broken glass down my throat. Every arthritic part of me is hurting.

And we are still waiting on the baby to arrive.  Little mother was supposed to be induced yesterday but it was cancelled because there were too many babies in the nursery.  It is now on the agenda for this afternoon.

They are still homeless and what did I say back in January?  No landlord is going to rent to a pregnant unmarried female on a pension.  Now her parents are running round looking for homes for them.
I could cheerfully beat the lot of them with a fence post...and laugh.....hysterically.

Now going to have honey in hot water, no lemon juice, it hurts too much.   And diabetic or not, I can live on tea and toast with vegemite.  And while Miss O'Dyne swears by vinegar and salt crisps to kill germs, it is a shop too far to walk to. 

I will be back sometime with news.

I hate July.

It's only the 5th day.

My Mother is very ill with lung rot which came up in 24 hours.

The expectant mother is in hospital with pre-eclampsia.

The expectant father is falling apart at the seams.

My sister is still telling me that everything will come right.

I just hope the pub doesn't burn down and crash the pokies.

And there was fog this morning and 4.6 temperature.

All I did was turn a corner...

I've had some weird experiences in my life, a 30 year marriage for starters but yesterday was out of the ball park.
I know of a love triangle.
I know one side of the triangle.
I've heard about one side of the triangle.
But yesterday I was talking to a stranger who nearly ran over my foot with her bicycle and discovered that she was the missing side of the triangle.
Do I have a face that invites salacious gossip to be downloaded to my mind in a voice that richoceted round Mentone, through Coles and up to the station to catch a train?
I've never seen the woman before and I've been wandering those streets for 3 years.
It started innocently enough, bicycle, running over, apologize and did I see Australian Story about Diana Bliss?
I meant to but I was cruising Space in Babylon 5 at the time.
We agreed she was a poor soul, very ill and goddess only knows why she married him because love is definitely deaf, dumb and blind.
Well, she had been in that situation herself, loved someone, had a child, engaged to be married and jilted and all her money couldn't stop him pissing off with a brainless tart.  Know the feeling, thinks I.
And she couldn't understand being left for some fat unlovely creature of the underclass when she herself was elegant and refined and wealthy.
The name of the fat unlovely creature was mentioned.
GASP, CHOKE, ROAR OF LAUGHTER.
Yes, dear Madam (lipstick running into the channels of her wrinkly mouth) I know her well.
She lives at the nursing home two ticks from where we are standing.
Where she is always moaning that the worse thing that happened, besides the MS, was the death of her darling husband.
Apparently darling husband hadn't told her he was leaving her and going back to the other side of the triangle and in fact had been going off with the triangle every time wife had trundled off to respite care.
He died of a massive heart attack while packing the car prior to piss off.
Triangle Three was in respite care and came straight to the Home.
Missing part of the triangle asked if his brother and sister cleaned out the house which I knew they had.
MPotT said they'd have gone into the roof and under the floorboards since they knew where he used to keep all his cash.  A lot of which came from the sale of the pre-marriage home of him and MPotT because she was wealthy and so was her mother and her grandmother.
Have I mentioned that MPotT had a son to Triangle One?
According to my mother, Triangle Three has no idea that there was a son.
According to my mother Triangle Three was a virgin when she married Triangle One after knowing him six weeks.
According to MPotT the only thing Triangle Three had going for her was her rep for being the best back of Ute R--t.
And so, dear readers, Triangle One mended fences with MPotT saying that he had made a terrible mistake and married the wrong woman and now wanted a happy ending.
Karma bites.
Triangle One falls to heart attack.
MPotT lives to tell tale to strangers but all her money (and apparently ex-husbands) can't erase a face full of wrinkles due to years of loathing at being left for a non-entity with a bum like a working bullock. (it's here that I begin to care, she says I am overly large but extremely elegant for it)
Triangle Three has progressing MS but before you thing I am cruel, she is nothing like our lovely Elephant's Child who disregards her MS in order to help other people.  TT is, and I suspect, always has been a whiner and a bit on the mean side.
MPotT from now on is going to be looking out for TT as she passes every Cafe in Mentone.
Revenge is never pretty but it is going to be entertaining.

July, how come it's July?

July 1st, damn, 30 days to go before another birthday.

The homeless are still homeless.

July 1st, are you sure?

The last week has gone past very quickly but July already.

I know it's winter, walking to the corner shop for the paper almost led to frostbite this morning.

Even the spiders are looking for warm spots but did the Huntsman have to drop in my cloak to find it. He was lucky when he bounced off the boobs that I didn't step on him but he was so big it would have taken an industrial vaccy to get the remains out of the carpet.

July, I was sure I had more time before I left 63.

I'm supposed to be typing out the minutes of the meeting of relatives and residents at the Home but my fingers won't work properly which probably has something to do with the brain freezing and my feet have no feeling.

I have an invite to a party on the 21st of July. Upwey, Dandenong Ranges Upwey.  It's July, it's freezing in Cheltenham in July, up there it snows in July.  Anyway I'm not going unless they have a cake for me too.

Arthritis hates July, my bones complain. I can hear them whining through the blubber. Inuits say blubber keeps you warm in winter.  I can tell you it's not doing much for me.

I had a 15 minute fight with a new pack of clingwrap this morning.  For years I have been opening packs of clingwrap and never needed an instruction book until now.  You cannot just flip up the lid, you have to cut along the edge and don't use one finger, you'll have a paper cut to the bone. Take out the clingwrap and follow the red arrow to find the edge of the plastic and remember to swear when the red arrow breaks before that happens.  Drag cling wrap out and try to tear along serrated edge which isn't there. But there it is underneath the cardboard belonging to the flip up lid you've just cut through.  Rip off cardboard, remember there is a steel edge there.  Yes, you can swear when you forget and slice through another finger. When did 'elf and safety go insane on clingwrap?

It isn't raining but I'm on the third bucket of dripping water from the spouting near the front door. I should move all three as the letter informing me about the installation of my smart (?) meter  (due next week) says the installer should have clear access to the meter box.  Always helpful I am but in this case the bastard can trip over and drown.

Besides I'm busy removing craft and beading magazines from the study. It's finally penetrated to my frozen brain that I can scan what I want to CD and view it on my little viewer when I am back in my work room sometime in the coming decade.  Fifty magazines gone through and another 40 to go. They're damn heavy or I'm getting too old to be picking up heavy magazines.  Anyway it is one of those sitting down by the fire jobs just perfect for winter.

It's almost the anniversary of the passing of the cat.  My gas bill is down because I'm not getting up at 6 to put the fire on for the frosted moggie.  The BOH is still mourning and homeless. 

So now I'm going to have a drink.  The orange tree at the back door is laden and the fruit is ice cold, about the only good thing about July so far.

The art of theft.

I've been reading a book about art theft and very interesting it is. So many paintings gone and so few recovered but I'm not talking about Napoleon's scroungers or Hitler's henchmen, ordinary thieves.

One surprising fact was that very few women are art thieves or we're clever enough not to be caught.

Another is that rarely is a painting stolen to order these days unless it's a specific grouping of subjects.

The news of a theft of a valuable piece of art give the organised art thieves world wide publicity regarding its monetary value.  The paintings are then used as collateral to buy drugs, guns or whatever they want. Some ransoms are still paid by insurance companies but many disappear and are never seen again.  And it's not only paintings.

Jonathon Tokeley-Parry had a neat antiquities smuggling racket going for him in the early 1990s.  He bought artifacts and after dipping them in clear plastic, he painted them to look like cheap gaudy tourist souveniers. Custom officials on the lookout for the real deal didn't catch on.  Tokeley-Parry transported many artifacts including a $1.2 million sculptured head of the Egyptian pharoah Amenhotep 111.  He created a provenance for his stolen goods in the form of the non-existent Thomas Alcock Collection.

His attention to detail included aged labels made by copying old pharmaceutical labels onto rough paper, baking them and finishing the ageing process by daubing them with teabags.

He was eventually caught and tried in England, copping a 3 year sentence.  The Egyptian authorities weren't as lenient, they sentenced him to 15 years hard labour, to be served if he ever set foot in their country again.

Henry Moore's bronze "Reclining Figure" weighed in at 2.7 tons.  On December 15, 2005, a team of thieves driving an old style Austin mini cooper followed by a stolen flatbed truck with a crane, hoisted the 11 foot long sculpture on board and left.  Estimated value in 2006 was 5.2 million dollars.  

In 1997, Gustave Klimt's "Portrait of a woman" was taken from the Galleria Ricci Oddi, Piacenze, Italy.

The gallery was closed for renovation so guards assumed the 60 by 55 cm painting had been put in storage.

The thief had simply climbed onto the roof, opened a skylight and used a fishing line to hook the painting off the wall.  He left the frame on the roof. 

Art theft is a lot harder to pull off these days, from Galleries that is, private homes, small museums or churches are still vulnerable. Remember that next time you can't see a painting for the bullet proof glass or the alarm sensor that goes off if you go 1 cm over an invisible line and don't pick your nose, the cameras are everywhere.  But as values increase stealing art is still worth the risk even if Auction houses have computer listings of everything known to be missing.  Of course war is a great cover for theft, loot from the Iraq war is still surfacing.

One last interesting fact.  The Mona Lisa only became popular after Vincenzo Peruggia lifted it from the Louvre in 1911.  Until the painting was found two years later in Florence, crowds came in greater numbers to stare at the empty space on the wall.

To get this image the astrophotographer waited two years for the sky and clouds to be just right on a clear and moonless night.
At the Piton de l'Eau on Reunion Island, Luc Perrot was lucky.  In the foreground is a water filled volcanic crater and above are hundreds of stars including the central band of our Milky Way Galaxy. 

I needed something beautiful like this after seeing photographs of Aunt Selma today.  Mum's 82, identical sister is the same age, she just looks 100.  I would have passed her on the street and not known who she was and to think, she always said she was the prettier one. So my sisters in blogging, don't smoke, don't lose weight and purge mean thoughts and deeds from your mind or you're going to look 100 when you're only 82.  

The Home was such a pleasure this afternoon, NOT.  The full moon isn't until July 4 so I can only assume they're getting in some practice before the gleaming globe hits the night sky and unlike the image above, it ain't gonna be pretty.

Eva got hit by a truck yesterday. I'd believe it, trucks go through the day room all the time and it would explain the over the top fruitcake performance excelled only by quiet Eddy who, since his fall out of bed, has developed the language of a wharf labourer with a smattering of sheep shearer.  He wandered into the day room in full voice, sat down at the piano, belted the keys and slammed the lid shut.  That didn't take the edge off his mood so he did it several more times while mum and I waited for him to lose his fingers.

The escapee has slowed right down, now in a tub chair and gone into the twilight zone.  We lost Sheila last week and old Joe fell out of bed and lost his eye but he didn't mind, it was the one he couldn't see out of.

And the gold fish died.  I think Aunt Selma looked at it and turned it to stone.  Now I am a caring person but my care tank is running on empty tonight.  No doubt I look 90.  I'll look a 100 if the homeless are still homeless when he gets home.

Taxi drivers

Taxi drivers have taken quite a beating over the last week, thankfully none of them were my regular drivers around Cheltenham and Mentone.  We must be more placid here.  Yesterday though I was witness to a very rude display to a driver.  Freezing cold, raining cats and dogs so I was pleased to see a line of taxis when I came out of Southland on my way to see mother.
A taxi pulls up, the mother with child in front of me takes a step forward as the driver gets out to help her with parcels.  She takes one look at him and says she'll take the next cab and walks away.
He looks bewildered then asks me if I want a ride.  I'm in the seat like a shot and ready to go. He's a regular driver and asks if I'm going home or going to the Home and asks if I have a problem with him as a driver.  Are you kidding, the man knows exactly where to take me without instructions and not the long way round, knows I hate a right hand turn out of Argus Street into Warrigul Road, stops right at my drive so I have no trouble getting out and is always polite. 
I don't know what nationality he was or is, he had a sort of 4 day beard growth, short hair, no body odour, cab smelt okay so I don't know what the woman's problem was but I think she was very rude.

It has been a monster of a week. My feet are still getting warm and I've only been out to see mother twice.  Usually the Home is too hot but not this week. She's still enjoying the iPad and the staff keep downloading more games for her but angry birds is about all she can cope with although there is some penguin game that's supposed to be fun. And glory be, Fergusson Plarre is open for business again and a custard tart disappeared from the bag faster than lightning. She said lunch was horrible, the tart was welcome and don't forget to bring more.

So I left with the third taxi driver for the day.  He waited patiently while I negotiated his new fangled high off the ground cab.  Instead of being able to just pull my feet in, there is some sort of ledge so I have to lift the feet in.  Difficult when carrying two bags and levering the lardarse onto the seat. Another nice bloke who knew the area and I had no problems with him.  Mind you I wouldn't take the job if it was the last one on earth.

All the circles, round and round

So June, 17, 2012, one of those circles in the image above, just pick one and touch it anywhere. The beginning and end is the same. June 17, 2000 or June 17, 2012 because I'm back exactly where I started. 
I am stressed, weight is back to what it was then, family is irritating me but I haven't seen the ex for 6 years so that is one big good news tick.
June 17, 2000 and I was two weeks into the great freedom of no marriage.  I read constantly in the advice columns that the parties of a disintegrating marriage should see a councellor to make sure they have tried every means to save it and then there are no recriminations.  Yeah, well he skipped all that by just leaving and waltzing into the arms of his blonde.  Karma bites as she is frequently waltzed out of the RSL by the bouncers and poured into his car.  Bwahahahaha.

I was fat, just getting used to walking on two brand new knees, getting over feeling sorry for my ex best friend who had an affair with my ex, (I mean how desperate did she have to be to go with him), and stressed that it might all be a dream and he would come back.  I lost 20 kilos in pure happiness.
That 20 kilos is now back and haunting me.  Not just the stress eating, the expectant family will know if they have a place next week, but the trying to eat 3 very small meals so I can eat 3 very small snacks during the day to regulate the sugar levels.  It isn't working.  And the pills, in 2000, I was taking two in the morning for anxiety and two at night for arthritis, now it's a constant stream of pills and vitamins.  I wake up, reach for the glass and pill, take blood test, take pills for sugar before eating, take vitamins while eating.  Blood pressure pills and more vitamins at night with food. Do I feel better, damned if I know.
I'm still fat, I'm still falling over, I'm still carrying the family around on my back. I'm still looking for that lost freedom of 2000.  I'm heading for another birthday, another fat birthday with no cake.  And I'm thinking, at my age can I afford to sit quietly for a month and just breathe with relief at the silence of a house with just me in it?
That's before I start stripping the wallpaper off the front room, painting the walls and 4 cupboards. To do that I have to unload a bookcase and move a big cupboard full of material so I can get to the walls.  Moving all the sewing and jewellery and craft back in there before I start cleaning the rest of the house.  Moving all the boxes out of the hallway and Feng Shui'ing that space.  I can just spy an empty bookcase over the packed mess, much like peering into a Pharoah's tomb and seeing wondrous things.
A lot of the furniture is moving with the lodger, I will have space.  I will vacuum without needing a contortionist's training. I have already begun the culling of the unwanted or unneeded and I'm being viscious about it.  I just would like that visciousness to include the culling of unwanted blubber around the bumlegsboobs but leave the face alone, I've seen my sister and she's just lost weight but it missed the hips but not the neck. She looks like she's just put on a necklace of dried river beds.

I don't care if I'm fat, I'm as healthy as I'll every be, I'm going grey but I'm really pissed at how fast time is flashing past. I remember everything about June 17, 2000 like it was yesterday. Just don't ask me what happened yesterday.

What was that famous line about removing a priest?

"Obviously you've got to make sure that there are appropriate safeguards taken, but look I think it's very important that we do expand, appropriately, coal mining in Queensland.



"We can't let a green veto stop these projects which are vital for our future prosperity."


Mr. Abbott said this about The Great Barrier Reef.  We should all listen to him because he is in Parliament and wants to be Prime Minister.  And if this is what he thinks as Opposition Leader, imagine what His Creepiness will do if he ever gets his jaws into real power.
 
 
The reef contains:



1,500 species of fish


411 types of hard coral


one-third of the world’s soft corals


134 species of sharks and rays


six of the world’s seven species of threatened marine turtles


more than 30 species of marine mammals, including the vulnerable dugong.


The Royal Navy used to keelhaul miscreants, that is tie rope around them and haul them along the barnacle encrusted hull of the ship and so removing most of the skin and flesh.  So let's put a modern spin on this tried and trusted punishment.  We hang Mr. Opposition by his feet from a small plane and reef haul him the entire length, making sure we take appropriate safeguards for the reef. I mean those ears alone could wipe out several miles of precious coral.
 
Yes, I am in a filthy mood and yes, I detest this man.

The Drifting River meme

1. You're taking a three month holiday, no expenses spared, do you cruise the oceans or fly the skies?



I charter the Queen Mary11. I will have the luxury suites on the upper deck and all my blog mates get the rest of the ship. I order the Captain to cruise the coastlines of Australia (including Tassie) and New Zealand.


2. If you could ask God for one world-wide miracle, what would it be?


Turn the Arms and munitions dealers on the sex and drug traders, all out war with no collateral damage.


3. Would you choose sky diving or deep sea diving? (why?)


Deep sea diving with James Cameron. Well it's a no brainer isn't it? Would you stand around happy knowing I was hurtling towards earth with only a flimsy parachute on my back? It'd be the dinosaurs all over again.


4. Would you choose having your wishes granted or having the power to grant wishes?


Neither, people would hate you either way and who am I to do a goddess out of a job.


5. If you could pick a song to be a world anthem, what would it be?


Just "Imagine"


6. Do you dream in black and white or colour?


Vivid colour and widescreen, fortunately not 3-D.


7. Three-course meals or one-pot dinners?


I can't eat a 3 course meal, it's either entree and pudding or main. When I'm alone, it's everything in the one pot, eat with a fork but don't forget the linen napkin, I do have class.


8. Do you menu plan, shop for two weeks worth of ingredients, then serve up toast and jam for dinner?


Of course not, toast and jam is for afters. After the donuts, spring rolls and anything else I can cram in the microwave.


9. Do you dye your hair a totally different colour from what nature intended?


Dye is such an ugly word. One enhances one's natural colour or the colour one would have had if one had been given a choice.


10. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you choose?


What, move away from Godsowncountry, at least the bit that Gina doesn't own, sorry rent.


11. Do you change your home decor to suit the seasons or do you just leave things as they are year in year out?


If something doesn't stick out like a sore thumb then it's decor'd to perfection. I move nothing, it disturbs the dust bunnies.

Never mind the Sun and Venus.

So I missed the block spot crossing the Sun but I can look at this image for a lot longer and without going blind.  It is a special moon called the Full Strawberry Moon and the Algonquin tribes knew it meant a time to gather ripening strawberries or the Rose Moon in Europe.  In this photo the moon is rising over the Absaroka Mountain Range, Cody, Wyoming.  Copyright to Mack Frost.

As is usual when there is no blogging from the witchy, it means a crappy week or a fall, in this case, both.  Now who would have thought with all my padding in front that I would actually stumble and fall flat on my backside. I really mean stumble, from the lounge door right across the hall until I hit ground zero and imploded about a zillion fat cells.  There must have been some shock since I bum walked all the way to the lounge to crawl up onto a chair when I was two minutes nearer to my bed but then I was facing away from the bedroom and one tends to go in the direction the feet are facing.
And being in nightdress and dressing gown, it took longer than necessary until I thought of taking off the dressing gown.  I hauled myself up on the nearest chair and managed to cut across  four fingers on a sharp edge of a plastic bag containing the drapes still waiting to be put up as soon as the curtain rod is put up.  Not bothering now that the BOH is hopefully moving out, soon or very soon or he will end up a commuting father.
So I'm hurting in several places including the toes on the left foot, right knee and sliced fingers.
Just don't mention the bum.

I haven't heard from mother probably reading her iPad or playing angry birds.  One of the nurses downloaded the game from his iPhone and showed her how to play. She's handling the iPad so well she's reading two books at the same time, depending on her mood.  She gets bored playing Temple Run, zombie apes do nothing for her.  But she's found out how to use the camera by taking photographs of herself and deleting the bad ones.  Who'd have thought I'd be writing about the old girl and Internet technology at her age.