Given the horror stories I've heard about the so-called celebration of Family Christmas I think this should be put on a T-shirt, apron or tattooed across the forehead of the family pest and there's always one family pest. In my case, it was my Father-in-Law who walked in with hand at the ready and mouth open for business. We always had to keep an eye on the sharp knives and my father's temper as the afternoon wore on and it was wearing. Dad was a very slow eater. He never had Christmas as a child so he used to enjoy every minute so mum learned to give him a small meal and hide a bigger one for after the walking stomach left. And it had to be hidden well, that man had a nose for food. Not only did my F-in-Law eat us out of house and home for Christmas lunch but had to race off later in order to reach a friend's place for their Christmas tea of fresh seafood. My poor M-in-Law would be exhausted but she trailed after him without complaint. Even the dog breathed a sigh of relief when they left. They never bothered my dear Ex, he was usually too pissed to know what day it was, bad luck having a birthday on the 24th of December.
This goes on my T-shirt on Boxing Day. I am exhausted just thinking of those days and so glad I don't have to bother now. I plan to have some Bombay, a book and a mince pie and no visitors.
And the sewing machine is working. People (some) will get the promised last year's Christmas Presents. I had it serviced in February 2009 and hadn't had a chance to touch it since then but she started up and ran like a Ferrari. The only problem was the huntsman wandering around on the ceiling. He's now in the bedroom and even the cat is wary. At least he's out of the way of the machine and the five dresses I've already cut out. And I'm adhering to the traditional Copperwitch Christmas of every room in the house being in a complete state of chaos and mess but there is hope that the Christmas Brooch tree in the frame will be up, even if it's not quite in the frame. I intend to have a bash at that this afternoon and I mean bash with a geologist's pick since it's just 2mm out in one corner so if I smack it hard enough it'll fit.
A columnist at the Daily Mail referred to these dresses as WBD as opposed to LBD or Why be Bothered Dress as opposed to the Little Black Dress. The little black dress is standard in any wardrobe, classy up dressed or day time down dressed. The why be bothered dress looks as if they couldn't be bothered putting on underwear and our last image of Jennifer Lawrence really shows why it looks trashy. How much more elegant it would have been with a full length underskirt instead of her all-in-one which must have been hell to get out of in the loo. Second image down did have skin coloured mesh keeping back and front together but what an ugly get-up all over.
Would image 2 look graceful without those silk net petticoats? I don't think so. Of course I had to put in one of my favourite colours, that plum is gorgeous. Not fussed about Anne Hathaway's bustle but Sandra Bullock looks tall and elegant in non see through red.
Call me old fashioned but I love beautiful gowns on the red carpet so girls, look in a mirror before you leave home and if you can see too much then so can we.
I love this photo. Very much in da 'Hood. "Hey Bro, dig the weird fat chick dancing the Watusi with the Rochester".
Mother's very tired and after being down at the Home every second day since last week, so am I.
She's okay to talk to but she's having problems that have never come up before like her breakfast coming up. Pain control is not controlling the nerve pain and fluid is building up in her chest but she's still giving me orders. She's happy enough and is in bed more often than out in the wheelchair. If she wants a jam sponge for afternoon tea because lunch was swill then as far as I'm concerned she can have it. It's not going to make much difference to her quality of life except to make it happier.
About the photo, see how he's leaning back on his tail, penguins have fat stubby tails like this or they have feather tails and now you'll never look at a penguin's face first again.
Smiling now. I just love the penguins of Madagascar but don't the mob above them look as tough as.
Miserable day, 12 degrees and raining. Mother not well. Watched first half hour of Parliament, vomit.
Bronwyn, 'oh the shark has pearly teeth dear' Bishop as Madame (make a good one) Speaker so impartial in keeping the Chamber's dignity. Cyclone damage horrendous but to climate deniers it was all done in a Hollywood studio. Qantas closes down maintenance at Avalon to shift it offshore, never flying now. Scallop boat skipper in Tassie ships his scallops to Thailand because workers there don't ask for much money, never eating scallops now. Gov. outsourcing Centrelink to Post Offices?
Science grants, well two of my scientist friends are holding their breath as their applications are on hold. What did I expect when there was no-one smart enough to be appointed Science Minister or a PM not smart enough to know we needed one. It's enough to want to crawl under a rock so let's look at penguins.
After saving up for so long to have this canvas print framed you'd think I'd remember to go and pick it up. I had the wooden frame and glass but the photograph that was in it looked much better in its original frame and I wanted something soothing and calming. It's always taking a chance buying from ebay but this was right but the other I bought, not so right. The picture was okay but the canvas it was printed on wasn't quality. The Framer rang, very apologetic as he'd had it finished for a couple of weeks and it had been hidden behind a larger painting. I hadn't worried as he'd told me he had 12 football jumpers to frame for the local team and since I'd already paid, it was out of sight, out of mind. The BOH had to hang it for me and on new hooks. The old hooks were put in by my ex who never bothered with such things as finding the studs and I'm surprised the heavy frame hadn't fallen. I like it, it is soothing and the inside mount picks up the soft apricot pink in the sky. It reminds me of holidays on the 90 mile beach, in the days when no-one thought of letting us roam for miles by ourselves. My mother might have but she didn't know that her sister was content to stay home and read a book while we wandered.
I have finally caught up with my blog reading although it's too late to leave comments on some posts. I visited a site which has not seen me for some time, long enough for the blog owner to start another but he left up the posts and I found one of his posts very interesting. It linked to a privacy blog where you could check how secure your user name is. I won't hide the link but put it up in full http://planete.inrialpes.fr/projects/how-unique-are-usernames/
I am still being plagued by malware/adware problems and have downloaded several "free" removal products that have not performed at all. Apparently this malware which I picked up at a blog and it was just an ordinary blog I visit and immediately got the pop up windows and redirected pages. I'm still trying to nut out Firefox's blocking mechanisms but according to information this malware comes from going to dubious gentlemen's sites or teenage music downloading sites and it's very hard to remove. Swearing at it isn't hard at all and I'm doing that a lot. The Malware removal product that I did purchase was uninstalled, the free ones were also uninstalled. I've also discovered that AVG which I've always used has, for 2014, downgraded its free programme. What I need is a 10 year old nerd who'll work for Coca Cola and crisps to overhaul everything. I really do need a new CPU, this one is so old it doesn't have a dvd burner. Just as long as Blogger doesn't lose my blog. And does anyone know why the previous tries at a new template come up before the final final template does every time I log on?
From the top, we have a 69 Falcon with no wheels but an American Mustang engine ready to be put in place. The BOH wanted a nice strong car for driving the precious child around. Kid will be 18 and driving it himself. We had a chap come down from Wodonga to buy the second hand gas tank and while he was here poking around the detritus, BOH sold him a bumper bar and several other bits and bobs. He puts everything on ebay and somebody is always looking for a part for an older car.
Next in line we have a combivan. This is now a national treasure as they've stopped making them. This will be a museum piece by the time it's finished. He does have half the interior done, bought a microwave and small oven, sink is in place and he needn't think I'm making the curtains. He has decided on a blue bottom with white top, blue interior and deep blue seats. Last week his aesthetic soul was outraged when an owner wanted black shiny thingies that go over the wheels when he had painted the rest a gorgeous metallic blue. I told him the payer was always right.
Next up should be the bottom photo. His first purchase of a soft top in metallic purple with celtic silver swirls along the sides. It has fat wheels which means fat thingies over them and even I admit it looks awful, squat and not elegant. He's selling the wheels this week and the thingies. He's agonizing over the colour and I want it in the metallic swizzy purple and he says it's girly. Well, guess who's going to buy a swizzy purple convertible VW? I still have the purple synthetic leather I picked up at the hard rubbish collection last year but he's too caught up in the soft top manufacturing process to think of interiors.
So, third photo down. I wish I had taken a photo of this when it arrived in all its pale greeness, rust and general "Oh god, don't look at me I'm a wreck!" delight. He showed it to Himnextdoor who couldn't believe it was the same car. A random bloke walking his dog stopped in his tracks and drooled. My taxi driver this morning who is a VW tragic took 5 minutes to drive away. It's an almost Mercedes Blue he tells me but with a drop of this and a drip of that to make his perfect shade. $8,500.00 and it's yours.
I also had a silver something or other but that's gone to the factory for a makeover. Once he would have left a mess everywhere but now he comes and sweeps up the dust and parts are neatly stored ready for the next wally who can't resist a bit of car that might just come in handy. The convertible was wrapped tightly when rain was predicted and just as well because the local possums haven't forgiven him for removing the last combi. It had no windows and they loved partying the night away in the warmth.
He is an absolute perfectionist. The last VW, brilliant post box red had a minor defect on the engine cover where it just hit the carbie in the wrong way so he fixed that and re-did the cover. I couldn't see it but he assured me it was ruined. And this from the kid who loved nothing better than to take the wheels off his matchbox cars so they'd zoom better in the sandpit.
Yes, me walking to the bus and thinking. Kind neighbour asking if I wanted a lift when I was practically on the bus stop, thank you not since you passed me leaving home and then 20 mins away from the bus. Where was I, ah thinking and I don't think well on my feet but this was good. I've been looking at treadmills, go on, roll around screaming with laughter, but all of them are too big for the small space I have left. I'm still the custodian of BOH's furniture, clothes and kitchen stuff so there's only one small part of the study and these damn machines don't look big until you get one in the house. What I need is a walking treadmill, no running room because there's no way I'll run anytime soon, but a small square walk pad, handles and simple control, 2 speeds, walk and crawl.
Why hasn't someone thought of this for old people, fat people and people who fall over gumnuts on footpaths? If I buy a treadmill, it's weight has to go up to 150kgs which I think is dumb because that's for running, I'm thinking crawl here and they're damned expensive. I don't need an incline button, I don't need a clock ticking away my heart attack only two handrests so I don't fall off and a square foot pad. I could do 30 mins 3 times a day just doing a slow walk and put in optional extra, a book rest. All this thinking and I didn't fall over once.
I haven't walked to the bus in quite some time and it was interesting to see changes. Little house on the corner just sold for $600,000, not much room on the block, corner block though and only 3 bedrooms and one bathroom. First owner was one of those manic house proud lunatics who laid the breakfast table before going to bed at night and threw the kids out of bed at dawn to have the bedrooms perfect before the school run. No lace curtains, just drapes pulled back to show the immaculate housekeeping. Bitch. I had photos on the blog somewhere showing the fantastic Wisteria over the arched front gate which the current owners have cut down. Speaking of Wisteria, I left my camera at home as usual and I came across another lych gate with Pink Wisteria. I've never seen Pink Wisteria before only the purple stuff. I defer to River and Elephant's Child to tell me that it really exists. It means another walk with the camera to catch it but considering the wind today there'll be no blossoms left this week.
So around the corner from the white house, the storm had brought down a branch from a flowering gum. This tree was in a garden and it's been there for over 40 years but one branch and it wasn't a big branch considering the tree, knocked out the corner of two houses. Tiles off and guttering down and both over bedrooms, didn't take down the fence but cracked off the wood in places. When it flowers it's always full of lorikeets and I used to stop and watch them, up close and personal.
Around the next corner and another house sold. Almost the same layout as mine but on a slightly bigger block and has a garage, no garden (at least I have ivy) $664,000 for this one. I hope the ex trawls the home sale pages and sees these.
And the bus, another sadist driver not dropping the door but enjoyed watching me do Tarzan to get in. Myki wasn't working as usual, at the front, so I made sure I exited the same way and didn't pay.
Next driver was kinder and edged the bus right up to the footpath in Mentone, so much better but my knees still felt like they'd been struck with hammers. Then I caught my arm in the handle of the door to the surgery and nearly broke it when the door slammed shut. Don't ask me how it happened, I was in too much other pain to notice. Doc Marvin is satisfied with BGL, much better than last year. If I go off the blood pressure and diabetic pills, nothing will happen now but maybe a stroke in a few years. I asked if that would happen before the heart attack and breakdown and he thought maybe all at once knowing how I never do things by halves. He did explain why the Diabetes mob continue to change the rules. They take a control group and study them, usually a mixture of good and bad conditions then make changes. Shame my diabetes educator doesn't read the memos about one size not fitting all and listens to me instead of talking at me. Bloody Doc is still laughing at her not knowing the difference between non-alcoholic ginger beer and writing me up as a drunk.
I ended the day with mother, again, still, evermore.
I've been going through the cds of images from 2005 and beyond and found this, an oldie but a goodie and it's still relevant. There's just a lot more of me dragging than there was and I have definitely snapped.
I did have good taste in men, though I don't recall from where I downloaded so many naked bods and surprise, so many have green eyes. I really have to do something about that fixation.
As to snap, sister rang to say she dreamed of going to mother's funeral last night and the eulogy was given by a Catholic nun who did a lovely job. She even remembered the nun's name. I, on the other hand had more of a nightmare. My ex daughter-in-law moved into the house because she was getting re-married. She swanned around boasting of how much weight she'd lost (bitch) but every time I looked at her face she turned into Rose Porteous - without the billions. I wasn't impressed by the fact that she was scooping up my jewellery to wear on her head. If I'd have known I was going to dream this, I'd have stitched her a burlap bag.
A whining visit to Doc Marvin is on for tomorrow. This time in 2012 he gave me a year to drop some weight, it hasn't happened, I'm-up-way-up-heart-attack-up if the nervous breakdown doesn't get me first. And they're running neck and neck so far. An article in the paper yesterday blames stress as one cause of women not being able to lose weight. I'll go along with that. Two of the happiest years of my life came just after the divorce before mother threw her tentacles around me again. I didn't even notice losing 20 kgs, I was having so much fun running my own life. Now I'm back to eating my way out of the prison of daughter in waiting and the combined diabetes educator and her rules and regulations about food. I've been through 3 shrinks, 1 psychologist, 1 hynotherapist and a dietician. That poor dear was newly qualified and could barely tolerate the fat objects she was supposed to be helping. I bet she went on to be a life long food avoider.
Anyway there's not much I don't know about myself and the inner workings of my mind and the mind is off the tracks heading for the gorge with the bridge out and no Skippy to send for help.
My stars said that today I should not indulge in a spending spree because of depression as no good would come of it. If only I'd read them before I went to ebay. Stupid astrology, doesn't it know that the thought that a goodie will magically appear in the letterbox at some stage during the week keeps me from staying under the bed permanently. And where's spring, I'm bloody freezing.
I thought it might be time for a new spring look. I'm worried even the bird looks worried. I'm not sure that I have the letters large enough to read but I'm sure I'll deal with that. It was a calming background not so in your face purple and I hope you lot appreciate that it's taken me nearly three hours to fix these colours in between panic attacks about losing the entire blog. I did download the old template but I'll give this one a chance.
Aren't they just divine, gorgeous, luscious? Step away from the "Buy" button?? It was never going to happen the longer I looked deep into these earrings. Pierced, of course, but the back is flat enough to take a glued on clip arrangement which will turn them upside down and I'm ready to wear. You never know, I might go somewhere in one of my two green velvet dresses and I'll need these.
What would my life be without jewells, boring that's what.
Thanks to the ever helpful Miss O'Dyne who signed me up to Pinterest, I've just spent an hour and a half watching a slide show of lovely jewellery, not on that site though. Since I first set up a computer in 2005, I've downloaded images of everything that interested me but I haven't kept them on the computer, I've put them all on CDs. All on a master then on CDs in categories. I've only watched the jewell one and considering my memory hasn't been the best lately, I'm surprised at how many of them I could recall names of and ownership, we just won't mention how many ownerships are mine.
Pinterest looks interesting and once I get the hang of moving around I'm sure I'll enjoy every time wasting minute. Not time wasting, I should say educational experience and learning also calming instead of downing tranqs and Gin as the good ship Mother keeps sailing through my life.
My house is still standing although the phone line took a battering. Thanks to Telstra being helpful, it's now back online but I'm not telling anyone that yet especially mother. Telstra routed the landline calls through my mobile phone so I wasn't completely cut off, I just let everyone think that for some peace and quiet.
120kmh winds through here two days in a row. The backyard is littered with buckets, chairs and boxes and they're wet so I'm not picking them up yet. The small branches of the gum tree came down but not the whole tree. Usually I don't mind the wind in the trees, it reminds me of a surf beach and I can go to sleep dreaming of that but this time all I could picture where those photos of lighthouses on the edge of nothing with waves heading for the light on top. The street didn't lose power which surprised me.
Mother heard the storm so she told me as I staggered down to the Home after a no sleep night. She has recovered from the lung rot and is doing well. Bloody terrific, I'm down a hole so deep I can see stars in day time. I keep telling you that she won't go until she figures a way to take me with her and the way I am now, I'll go first. No arthritis pills for two days and I can barely hit these keys without moaning. I had to get the girl in the pharmacy to crack the childproof lid for me so I could take them at Southland. It's the knuckles across the right hand, burning and swollen and that's the hand that gets whacked because it's the one that hurts, Murphy's Law.
The great and useless IceBear was not frightened of the wind, not at all. Of course he never ventured from the fire to check it out except once when a load of water was dumped on top of him from the tree he was under. I swear his feet never touched carpet until he was on the bed and rolling on my doona cover to dry off. Cracking the tops on his cans of food isn't a load of laughs either.
And something else that hurts, using the remote control for the TV. I just have to calm down whenever politics hit the screen and take my time removing the offending politician from my sight (all sides).
I did enjoy Julia's interview though. She could have dumped a bin load of crap on all of them but didn't and I will buy her book when it's finished.
Phone is ringing, shame I'm here and it's out there. I'll ring the old girl later, much later, maybe next week.
I just thought you'd like to know that in case it's bad luck and I get invaded by the rest of its extended family looking for revenge.
Mother is still very ill although she did say this morning that she's not coughing up black stuff from her lungs anymore. Thank you, Ma, that finished breakfast off nicely. Shingles haven't progressed and lung rot looks to be under control. She still doesn't feel strong enough to get out of bed though.
Oh me, well I'm still here and happy the dvd player is fixed. A big thank you to Ann O'Dyne for reminding me I hid licorice allsorts in the desk drawer next to the computer. I have done not a thing all day except read a book and I had to speak to myself most severely in order to sit and read and not feel guilty that the dishes are not washed (when are they ever) and the groceries are sitting on the floor from Saturday. It's not like they can run away or anything.
I'm tired. I didn't sleep well because I did something I don't believe I've ever done before. I woke myself up by talking in my sleep. I was still talking when I woke up but I don't know what I was saying. Now that's frustrating, it could have been the lotto numbers or the winner of the Melbourne Cup. Don't laugh, my sister regularly dreams the winner of the Caulfield Cup and then takes another horse because it has better odds. I don't know how many times I've told her to at least put $5 on the damn thing.
And I still have Malware annoying me even after paying for a programme to clean the computer. It says I'm clear, I say I'm not. But it did clean up 1500 odd bits of whatever to make the old girl run faster. I'm even trying out the pro version of AVG for 30 days and that's not doing anything. It seems I'll have to go in and dig the beast out with my bare hands. I don't know exactly where I picked it up but it was a blog I've never been to before and all of a sudden, I had this and that popping up everywhere and pages being re-directed. I delete history, use CCleaner after every session and now the new SparkTrust. That's also a trap because when I paid it automatically signed me up for renewals which I have to stop myself. Unfortunately it won't let me login or create an account to stop the renewal so off went an email for them to do something. I bet some little 12 year old hacker is pissing himself laughing in a basement somewhere.
And after a lovely sunny day, a thunderstorm is threatening and tomorrow when I have to go out, it's going to be cold and probably rain. I hate spring.
Shingles, a nasty little blot on the human form not to mention a painful one.
It comes from childhood chicken pox, where the virus leaches into the nervous system and remains dormant until triggered. It then multiplies and travels along the nerves to the skin and erupts into blisters.
Usually the rash and blisters appear around the waist and on one side of the body but it can appear on the face and head. The pain is intense, throbbing and keeps on going for weeks or months. There are complications of light sensitivity, flulike symptoms, adominal pain, diarrhoea, chills, fever, swollen glands or joint pain, headache, confusion and drowsiness.
Researchers believe physical and emotional stressors weaken the immune system and contribute to the onset of the disease. If it hits the eyes, there is the danger of drooping eyelid, loss of eye motion, corneal ulcers and vision problems. If it goes into the ear, bad bad news.
Guess who has Shingles? Not me, thank the Great Goddess but mother. Doc Marvin noticed a small scaley patch on her forehead and sent for the proper medication at once. She didn't remember having Shingles before but me, being the file for all things Mother, rang the surgery to tell them when and how severe. It's really weird that on Tuesday when I was there I was telling her about Shingles and the new treatments and what causes it.
STRESS,
Annie Joyce of the glass cutting voice, dying beside her because the shit doctor wouldn't do anything.
New roomie (2 died in the last 6 weeks) is not only a sleep talker but if she wakes up, she walks and Mum's been ringing the bell for the nurse in charge. I did my block and told mum to let the woman fall over.
Old roomie's memory is now so bad she can't remember if day is night or if she had dinner. Middle of the night and she's asking mum to ring the bell because she hasn't been fed. She did have her own bell but they disconnected it. She then used the bed up and down control instead until she upped it too much and slid out onto her ample backside causing midnight mayhem.
The lovely tea lady, who has been giving mum crumpets for supper and buying them out of her own pocket, was dobbed in by a snitching bitch on staff when it was none of her business. Guess who was extremely upset on hearing about this and stressed out that a friend was in trouble.
The old girl also has congestion in the chest, another complication and her immune system isn't the best. Don't talk about nutrition, snitching bitch has been doing the cooking while fat useless chef has been off sick. The only time a meal was good was when an agency chef was brought in when snitching bitch was also off sick. I know why she really looked forward to that crumpet supper.
I noticed a spot on her face last week but put it down to some idiot bringing in flowers with pollen when I've repeatedly told them she's allergic to pollens. And I noticed how drowsy she was during the afternoon and since joint pain is always with her, didn't take much notice when she said the new lifting machine was making it worse. I'll see her on Friday and I'm taking crumpets with me, with her name on the packet.
Just to round off the post, I'm going to kill the person who walked a camel along my nature strip last night, in the dark. It had to be a camel, it left enough crap to fertilize the entire Sahara Desert. There was hardly enough room to park the bin and not have to wade through it and I only just got the bin out before the storm hit.
And not a fecking piece of chocolate in the house. I tell you shredded wheatmeal biscuits do not de-stress. Tomorrow I shop and I'll be looking for the biggest piece of lemon meringue pie I can find. Speaking of tarts, anyone catch last night's Great British Bake Off? I tell you green-eyed Rob with the dark hair can bake my cookies any day and I thought I would just drool over the cakes.
Apparently to be mentally healthy, I should have dreams. Dreams have been few are far between lately except for this one and it doesn't take Freud to interpret what it meant.
I hate falling asleep in the afternoon I always wake up feeling like something the cat dragged in instead of being full of zing,
So phone rings, waking me up which is why the dream was so vivid.
I am on the veldt, in Africa, on safari, on foot. Actually nightmare considering I'm the right size for lion food and safari is not my thing unless I'm toting an elephant gun through the lobby of the Windsor Hotel on the way to my suite.
So, on the veldt, I feel the need to pee, really need, desperate. I keep finding bushes to hide behind but the gazelles also find me and gallop past.
So gazelles galloping, I should forget them and pee but gazelles gallop when chased by larger things with teeth and appetites. I move to another bush, gazelles gallop. Oh the need to pee!
Phone rings, mother, naturally. And I really do need to pee. And I hear gazelles galloping.
No gazelles, two kids on skateboards outside my fence.
No lions.
Lord it was nice to pee in peace.
Every time I tried to write a post, blogger said I'd logged out somewhere else, would I like to sign in again. If I said yes, it directed me to dashboard where there was no place to sign in, if I clicked close, the page I needed wouldn't load. I managed to find the compose page address hidden somewhere else and opened the door there. It's now telling me an error occurred while trying to save, I can try again or ignore warning. I am ignoring. I've done two virus scans, nothing showed up except an invitation to upgrade with money.
The dvd player, has something wrong with it. It plays the background music, various noises but not the people speaking. I thought the new dvd was defective but trying another was the same. The manual isn't helpful and the BOH hasn't yet hooked up the sound system. He called in yesterday to do it but the baby had fallen asleep in the car and I refused to let him break rule number one, let sleeping babies lie. He did put my curbside rescue tv out on the nature strip for the hard rubbish collection for someone else to rescue. Not much in the way of good pickings this year although I managed to snaffle a very new lamp shade of an unfortunate burnt orange colour which will come up nicely.
Another of mum's roomies has popped her clogs. She had a stroke, just a small one at first when she fell face flat in her dinner but steadily declined over a week. Strange not to hear that voice so soft when it usually could cut through plate glass. Something has gone very wrong with the Home.
I'm going on mother's observations here, but a doctor wasn't called immediately neither was her daughter. Over the week the old dear became more and more distressed and in pain. Her doctor came, said there was nothing to be done and did not order morphine to ease the pain, her daughter demanded a second opinion and morphine was given so Annie Joyce slid silently away. It appears that Doc Marvin is the only one who has it on record that if anything out of the ordinary happens with my mother he is to be called immediately. I know he's the only doctor that comes weekly to check on her. My sister has medical Power of Attorney for me and she is a believer in bucket loads of painkillers towards the end.
As for me, well it's been a very bad month. Fortunately while there's food in the fridge, I never get to the suicidal end stage but it's been a close run thing these past weeks. I have no friends to talk to and emailing blogmates when they all have their own trouble seems an intrusion. Talk to my sister. The sister who has just had holidays and did not tell me, did not ring and say, coffee? beer at the pub?, nothing, not a word. Talking to Doc Marvin is an option but I don't know what to say or where to start in the allocated 10 minutes. Of course I could sum it up in a few words, I've put on too much weight since I was diagnosed with diabetes, I'm depressed but not able to get out of the house to exercise because I'm too frightened to get to the front gate unless it's to get in a taxi, I hate my mother, I hate my sister and I hate my son for dying on me. That was one thing that really killed me on election day, going to the school and getting overwhelmed with memories, so much so that I could barely walk without wanting to throw up. I even by-passed the sausage sizzle and the cake stall. I walked home holding on to fences until I had a cup of coffee at the shop and sat for a while in the sun until my heart found it's way back into my body. I held on to more fences to get home.
I haven't really picked up since then.
I've barely been able to get dressed but mother is always calling. Showering is fun until the water goes cold and I have to get out and go through the hurting bits of drying the mountain. Nothing is working without several ouches and bad language. I should be grateful for the cat, if I didn't have to feed him I wouldn't get out of bed, he makes me function. I was happier, felt healthier and had a big but reasonably stable weight until I was diagnosed with Diabetes now it's all blood tests, pills, and anxiety about everything. I'm bombarded with conflicting advice from all sides and the bastards keep moving the goal posts. After being told not to use diet drinks or slimming bars, it's now been decided that this is okay for a fast weight loss to begin with. I was told off for doing this, really told off but now it's okay.
Enough about me. I wonder how Tones is going, bunking down with the boys? Can you imagine what he would have said if Julia had booked a room with the CWA. And Julie Bishop, she's not going to pay over 30 grand for a first class seat to USA, business class is fine with her like the rest of us don't know she'll be upgraded for free. Bronwyn Bishop, our new Speaker, she's going to pull them into line and civilise Parliament as it should be. Good luck on that Bron. It's all a noxious mess but I'm glad Julia had her say at last.
The spring rash has started. I've been careful not to walk in the grass because Eric the Mower hasn't been and it's getting a bit out of hand, so no rash on the legs. Great lumping cat comes in last night plonks his head down on my chest and goes to sleep and by the time I'm going to bed, rash is up and going. I know where's he's been, I could smell it. He's been rolling in the flowering Jasmine on the back fence. I just forgot I had on a dress with a low neckline. Of course it could be the election that's making me break out in itches. What a load of prats. If I never see Clive Palmer's face again it will be a good thing. I'm not watching the polls, I'll be watching Harry Potter and eating chocolate to calm my nerves. I might take a peek to see who is winning in LaTrobe because the Lib there is someone I detest and if he does win, I hope he celebrates so much he falls over a cliff.
Good news though, coming past the local school, there is a big sign: Saturday, BBQ and Cake Stall and underneath, polling booth. Priorities right on the mark.
And Andrew your taste in men is appalling so you're not ever getting one for your birthday again. Nothing wrong with redheads either as long as their eyes are green. Now put your comments back to pop-up box, I miss insulting you so much.
I see footballers haven't learnt much this season but setting fire to a dwarf is lowering the bar to a new low. Never mind what they're injecting themselves with, why doesn't someone test whatever is in the water they're drinking. Oh silly me, water? Test the beer, vodka, gin, whiskey or whatever else they're pouring down their gullets. String up the next idiot from the goal post by his feet for the duration of the match and maybe some brain matter will dribble down to where it should be.
Crap I hate football and whining cricketers, if they ever take up politics, I'll take up offshore swimming.
Ingredients
Meringue
2egg whites
Pinch of salt
110gcaster sugar
1teaspoon corn flour
½teaspoon sweet apple vinegar
¼teaspoon freeze dried thyme powder
Lemon and Wild Thyme Honey Cream
90glemon juice
165gwild thyme honey, such as ‘J Friend and Co’
2eggs
45gwhite sugar
1titanium-strength gelatine leaf
110gcold butter, diced
125gpure cream (45% milk fat)
Thyme Ice
100gwhite sugar
½lemon, zest finely grated
10glemon thyme leaves
2gvitamin C or citric acid
475mlwater
50mlfresh fennel juice (add a pinch of vitamin C when juicing)
50mllemon juice
Salt, to taste
Pumpkin
1wide piece Kent pumpkin, seeds removed
125ghoney dew honey, such as ‘J Friend and Co’
125mlwarm water
To Assemble
3-4 mandarins, segmented
80mlwild thyme honey, such as ‘J Friend and Co’
3-4 pieces freeze dried apple
To see how to make these ingredients into the dessert you mustgo here and try not to faint.
And this was the only photograph I could find that showed George and his suit of strange things.
I love this time of year when it's dusk but the birds are still calling. Not the Tawney Owl up there though, I just liked the photo. Since the Magnolia was cut down, I've noticed an increase of possum thumping across the roof. It always amazes me that they can walk the wires across the road but will fall out of a tree with ease. It seems they are moving from next door to my roof, snacking on the ripe oranges, back across the wires to the Paperbark tree where I surprised one this morning.
Anyway speaking of owls, I'm pleased to see that there is a Harry Potter movie on Saturday night and I will not have to endure the election agony. I have never seen so many weird parties contesting for the Senate or the House of Reps. every thing except a good drover's dog. Still it's taken over from the football rubbish and the cricket crap and it ends much sooner. Whoever wins will need a slave to ride behind, reminding him that he is not a god just someone who can be replaced in three years. Perhaps it's time we had that tattooed on the inside of certain sporting identities and politicians eyelids. That's the trouble with blokes, treat them like gods and they immediately believe it, must be in the genes. Women are more sensible, we don't have to be told, we just know we are.
I was going to say something about the Masterchef finale but I'm still washing my eyeballs in saline trying to remove the image of George in, well, um, dear lord what was the man wearing? A bikie tuxedo, leather sleeves and collar and bowtie united with some sort of sackcloth. It distracted me from the food, and you all know how hard it is to distract me when food's involved. I would be a top masterchef because I have never beaten the crap out of cream like those two did last night and what is the point of ruining meringue by putting pumpkin anywhere near it. I had more fun looking at the losers lining the balcony who couldn't quite manage to hide the "shit I should be down there" faces when they didn't think the camera was on them.
Now seriously let's just drop the reality shows for the rest of the year and put on something we'd really like to watch. It's a shame there's no time for Abbott and Rudd in gladiator gear in the middle of the MCG, with real swords and a lion or two, winner gets to tell more lies than the loser.
Bring on the sausage sizzle at the polling booth on Saturday or I'll be very unhappy.
Settling down with the moggie last night to watch my favourite stud muffin, Mat Bomer in White Collar and what do I get, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum promising me the world on a plate. Promise me Mat and I'll vote several times over for you. That ruined my entire night. Tonight isn't much better, instead of Grimm being on at a reasonable hour, say 9.30, it's on at 11 because 'Please marry my son' and 'Prom Wars' are so much more to the taste of moronic viewers. And when did footballers become more important than cake? The great bake off finale got booted for updates on Essendon's drug buys. All this in one week, now that's irritating.
Mother has a new roomie, no, not that one from last week, she's gone, nor the other from the week before, she's gone. I haven't seen the new lady but mum says she's quiet and only a little demented not like the other roomies who are ramping up dementia to new levels. Mum puts on her headphones and pretends she can't hear them even if she doesn't have the dvd viewer on. I ordered another load of dvds last night from this ebay site in Melbourne. They are made in Taiwan with Chinese subtitles but with the original movie soundtrack in english, just turn off the subtitles.
I found that she had trouble comprehending modern movies but the old movies from the 30s and 40s which she was familiar with are fine. The Midsomer Murder and Agatha Christie series she knows off by heart. She's already sobbed her way through 'Mrs Miniver' and 'Random Harvest' and laughed through 'Arsenic and old Lace'. I bring home the movies she'll re-watch later but she keeps those she really likes. I did find a movie last night called 'A portrait of Jennie', comes under the heading of romantic thriller and stars Jennifer Jones. I'll say this about the psychological thrillers of the 40s, they didn't need blood and masks to keep you riveted to the seat and chewing the fingernails. Another good thriller was 'The Spiral Staircase' with George Brent and Dorothy Maguire and a neat twist at the end.
She's not fussed about musicals because they put those on after lunch in the dayroom and they go round in a perpetual loop. If she never hears Sound of Music again she'll be happy. We decided on 'Meet me in St Louis' for the costumes and 'Easter Parade' for the great songs. She doesn't really like Fred Astaire, not fussed about Gene Kelly but loves Tyrone Power and Cary Grant and will tolerate Errol Flynn if he's playing a pirate. June Allyson whines and Joan Fontaine is whimpy but Katherine Hepburn is a winner.
It's amazing really that she can hardly remember last week but give her a small hint about a movie made in 1936 and she'll tell you the whole story. If she goes out watching her favourite dvd, it's a great way to go.
