The weather, politics and Dutton are not worthy of conversation but ice cream is.

I've made this extra large, don't let it hit you in the eye but I have to start early to remind you my birthday is drawing near, well a month and a half but at my age one's friends have the same memory problems that I do.  Not that I should be thinking of beautiful rings since arthritis has hit my ring finger with a vengeance.  It's burning and painful and it has a habit of hitting every door right on the knuckle. I expect you to start saving now, I'm very high maintenance.

Apparently Amazon is selling a bracelet that gives you an electric shock if you eat too much food.  Buy me one at your peril.  I just stole that piece of crud from twitter so didn't bother to do any research on it, being totally shocked as I was.  It's bad enough being psychologically monstered for being big obese morbidly big as a small house would feed the starving of Africa but this is too much.  Now we, XXXXXXXL, are going to be physically attacked.  I really should go back and research because I cannot work out how the damn thing would know how much food I'd eaten to access my overeateness.  A leg of pork would weigh more than a tub of ice cream.  Does it have a direct line of communication with my stomach?  Does my stomach scream, "stop the bitch, I'm full to bursting"!  At the moment I'm going through a tub of passionfruit gelato but it's so cold, yum but stomach whines at the freezing and I have to have a cup of coffee to warm it up.  Why doesn't anyone make a decent passionfruit ice cream with real passionfruit not just flavour?  Sorry went off the track there, passionfruit does that to me and I had a vision of pavlova with passionfruit running down the sides of whipped cream.  Lost my train of fruit thought, about these bracelets and the size, the photo made them look small and since I just measured my wrist, I'd need one the size of a Dunlop.

I have bought a new cooker at last.  It's sitting in the lounge just waiting to be installed.  This is complicated, I bought it in the sales, the money I saved went on the delivery fee, cunning bastards.  It must be installed by a plumber or my insurance is out, umpteen certificates must be produced to say it is safe so whack $249 on the sale price.  Stupid me didn't ask how much to take it away, $20 but that is a lot of ice cream and I'll make the nephew take it out at hard rubbish time. For that price I refuse to clean it but it won't look too bad once I remove the foil.  I'll also remove the grill tray, for scone cooking. Take the side thingies out of the oven to grow my little tomatoes on this summer. The pot thingies on top will be good for sitting the pot plants on. I realize that this spotless white lovely cooker is going to make the rest of the kitchen look like a pig wallow.  Life was never meant to be easy or clean.  
 

Cheers for our AFP

Yeah, Scomo and Dutton.   They're Cactus.

And I thank our AFP and their raids on everybody.  I am having a sign made for my front door. 

 EXCUSE THE MESS. I'VE HAD A VISIT FROM OUR NATION'S GUARDIANS.

IT SNOWED! SNOWED IN THE SUBURBS!

 

I love Otters, love love Otters. Remember the Hover Cat memes?  So here we have a hover Otter.

I needed something cute.  Yesterday it snowed in Oakleigh, which is just up the highway from Cheltenham, snow for Scummo's sake! Of course I blame the Government, doesn't everyone.

My neighbour came in and took my garbage bin out and just made it back to his front door when the thunder started and the rain and the hailstones. It was freezing. I fell asleep near the fire and didn't wake until 3 in the morning when I staggered off to bed.

The cat would have fainted if it had snowed on him. He still hasn't recovered from last winter when he was caught by hailstones and they melted in his fur. 

A lot of talk going around about freedom of religion.  Great, another mess.

My first faith is Science followed closely by Harry Potter. Sort that out you moronic creeps.  

I could use a couple of these

Looking at this photo from National Geo makes me feel freezing but I'm laughing at the same time.

According to photographer Michael Schaake, he decided to take his time to photograph one sheep but one after the other, the rest appeared.  It's a brilliant shot. 

 Reminds me of those cat memes we all loved.  "How to catch a cat", put down an empty box and watch it fill as 3 or 4 cats tried to fit into the box or put down freshly laundered washing on a couch. I can vouch for the ironing. I lost the Ice Bear the other night and only found him when he moved on the white sheet on the top of the pile. Don't worry I don't iron sheets, they just happened to be on the chair with the rest of the un-ironed laundry. Still there and another load in the dryer and another lot un-washed in the machine.  Don't judge, I'm cold and coughing again. 

At the moment it's only 9 degrees in Cheltenham, feels like zero.  I only checked to see what temperature is for Thursday or Friday as I haven't yet made an appointment for a follow up heart scan. I must go and do it now and hope the wind dies down. The bloody cat is insisting on the back door being open so he can make a dash for a pee, never mind me freezing to death and he has kitty litter but he needs a bigger tray.  I'm the one who had to wipe him down when the wind changed and he was pee'd upon, could have been worse. 

A pox on everyone who's delighted with the falling snow.  By the time I get the CT scan I'll be coughing up ice.

Morbid Monday

Okay, so the stupids won out but you only have 3 years to repair the brain cells.

Because we'll be back.  Back and better and bigger and no lies.  Remember this next time you hit the voting booth.

What Election?

I can't talk about it.  I didn't drink my booze or open my chocolates, my mouth wouldn't close.

Honestly these three would have made a better party for Parliament than the morons other people elected.  Waiting now for Clive to once again demand that Queensland secede from Australia.
Since every poll got it all wrong I  will put it out that Abbott will find someway to stand as an Independant just to prove he is the arse he's always tried to hide.

When things quieten down I'll be writing to  Labor Party to think about having a list of people who will be voting by post for all elections.  I was too sick to go out and post my letter so it was up to the school in nice sunshine. World of Warcraft waging in left arm with the flu vac and by the reaction, my T cells were winning. 
Boo to bitch, who, when I was leaving looked at me but spoke to bloke coming in back door to make sure he left by front door.  Front door has a step of 10 or 12 cms, very difficult with dodgy knees, dizzies and a walker.  Just for that I refused to buy their cakes.  Staggered to shop for their divine coffee and sat until I could walk to rest of the way home.

Every time one of those urks got another vote I turned to SBS and watched Queen sing.  Could not bear to see Victor and Vanquished speeches and almost went to bed then but I was comfortable.  And on comes The Drum with a brilliant run down of what had happened followed by a re-run of the first episode of the new series of Harrow then it was bed. Unfortunately I had been interrupted in taking off the bottom sheet and putting new winter one on. Damn, slept on the wool overlay but woke up with pain somewhere and couldn't wake up enough to find out where it was until I swung legs out of bed. Spine, down the leg to zinging foot so Voltaren on, wait a few minutes, pain gone. Still haven't put the sheet on yet.

Too much sitting with magazines but I have only 8 or so to throw out. 
Anybody remember Silkymits?  If you do you're officially old but they were handy in between shaving legs to keep the hair down.  I failed leg shave, always nearly bled to death when using that damn razor.  Good thing I wasn't a bloke, cut throats would have been the death of me.
Other things, not much advertising for perfume except Tweed but loads for ladies' cigarettes. 

Put the news on now and keep my eyes shut. Watch out for freedom of religion brought up in Parliament. Me, I'm dying my white cat black and back to dancing in the moonlight.
 

I'm still with you

Watching waves is always calming but since I'm freezing I think I should have put up an image that had sunshine and palm trees framed with a large gin.
Bad days for the last week or two or maybe a month.  It started with me trying to help myself by looking up bloggers from before the "mother days" and re-contacting.  Ten years makes a big difference, twitter, reddit, facebook, instagram and me still barely able to turn on the computer. I've just spent two days and most of one night trying to get a twitter account until I twigged that I was putting down the wrong phone number. I have an account but I haven't a profile or a tweet to my name yet.  It was Twitter's fault combined with Firefox who didn't let me know that my background heading had been discontinued for some reason and that made twitter lock me out of the account as being a suspect tweeter.  At least I'm still anonymous in case the ex is on twitter. I still can't work facebook, haven't a clue how to comment and twitter only gives me a certain time to comment before they slash that account. I forgot to look at the post count but this could be my 2000 post.  I still remember the shakes at trying to set up blogger and that was on dial up.  I miss XP, so simple for dummies and I'm only on 8.2 after 10 nearly sent me insane. Updating is out of the question, I've been trying that for a month and just fail fail fail keeps coming up, updates download but won't install so stuff you Microsoft.

Now for Andrew, news from Queenscliff. Low light Queenscliff is on from May 3 to June 30 with a host of music, arts and culinary events.  There's simultaneous burning of sculptures in the main street, followed by a nude dive off Queenscliff pier and one for Highriser, a whiskey masterclass at the Queenscliff Brewhouse plus music.  Details: lowlightqueenscliff.com.au
Yes something else I've forgotten, how to hide links but I've found my cheat sheet and I'll start practicing.

Only have one load of magazines to go through and that's finished. It didn't worry me throwing out the craft, wedding and Vogue but this lot is different. I keep coming across memories and I'm surprised at how much of a belt it gives me.  Ben Ean Moselle, that taught me not to have more than one glass and does anyone remember Mateus Rose? I'm sure the girlfriends and I only drank this to put candles in the lovely shaped bottle. A shop advertising the very expensive handbag in black patent leather that took me ages to pay for.  I was suddenly back in time, walking Bourke street and staggering down Collins Street hoping the trains weren't early. And "man spreading" is not a new thing, we had one on the Frankston line, he'd get on at Highett, force himself between two girls and spread those legs. It must have killed him when the red rattlers gave way to the blue trains (am I right, Andrew, blue trains).  Too many bad memories have surfaced and added to the depression I already have, not made any better by not one person emailing or phoning to tell me about the arrival of little Riley, already a week old. I did send the photo (nicked from facebook, only reason I have an account) to my sister who emailed one word back, gorgeous.
One word, I swear there's a sinister invisible machine at the Queensland border that sucks the brain out from anyone crossing the line to live there. Election time was the only time we really talked but now nothing, next thing I know she'll be voting One Nation.

And send love to Antikva who was going to start blogging again but her 7 year old grandson had an hour long epileptic fit this week and is okay now but she's still recovering.  

The package has arrived!

Coming in at 7lbs, 9oz is my second great granddaughter, Riley Kaye and held by her gorgeous sister Clio.  I like babies when they are sound asleep, it's the waking time that does me in.

Ear worms, nuisance, eye worms, hilarious

You pest, Highriser, you really started something with those T-shirts. Everywhere I looked I would find something that would look great on a shirt for you.  The one above would be from your long past drag days.

But much further down the track (R would agree) this one would just be right.
Actually it could be the bloggers motto from the early days, we're too old and lazy to be psycho these days.

Better to leave the weirdness to politicians.  We're going back to the early days with bushrangers trying to run the country and run with the money. What would you do if a Parliamentarian walked up to you and said, "I'll look after your purse/wallet, you can trust me."  You kick them in the kneecaps and run a mile.
That would be nasty on a T-shirt, Clive in speedos with his hand in the Treasury.

Now I have to go and look for the cat. Jimmy forgot about the cat and brought his dog in the yard and being curious he followed him into the house and spotted the cat's breakfast, didn't see the cat behind him.  The cat is terrified of dogs but so protective of his food that he fluffed up like a giant balloon and started growling. Apparently the dog, a timid Coolee (?) is terrified of cats and couldn't move what with the growling and hissing of the giant snowball.  The dog was picked up and taken out, the cat took one look at the empty plates and stormed off to the sewing room.  That was 3 hours ago, I think he's lost himself.

Down to the last magazine holder and I'll have two shelves empty.  These come from the 70s and what were we thinking about with fashion! Horrible big clunky shoes, almost impossible to walk in and definitely the skinny age of clothes.  There was only one way to hide a big everything, Caftans. I had several, still have two to use as patterns. Forget the shoes, I don't think I'd have the energy to lift my feet from the ground.
No matter how many memories of the glory days of youth, some things should be left in the past.  That includes photos of first boyfriends, I found one and my dear, those unfortunate ears.  I have torn up every letter and photo but there's always one lurking around to question one's taste in men and he was wearing platform shoes and flares but I suppose they kept him from flying off in wild weather.

Another hill to climb

Tomorrow he would have been 48 and wouldn't have needed that beard to look older.  All he wanted was to work in the bush, look after trees and keep the forests intact.  He's holding his eldest daughter here, Laura, who is due to give birth in the next few days to his second grandchild.
I remember his laugh. 

Mum's waited a long time to have another birthday with him.  
 

I'm missing Autumn

I was putting a few pictures in folders last night and forgot to change back to the desktop background I had.  When I switched on this morning my head went round in  circles and I pulled back in the chair.  It had to have been taken from a helicopter and it felt so real I felt I was almost out of the door into the sea. Memo to self, do not take helicopter ride, anywhere.
It didn't help that I felt dizzy and my throat is sore and I am tired again. I was getting better and had been out walking but a letter from Department of Human Resourses dropped me down again.  I have to pay back the nearly $1000 which they said was not part of mum's estate. Please nobody tell me to fight for it, I haven't the energy and the Catch 22 is that I have to pay up first then fight to get it back.  I paid and drew a line in the sand over the whole affair. I had promised myself I would not be told to do anything I didn't want to, unless there's 'egging' a politician involved. I could be talked into a dozen Xtra large right between Dutton's eyes, I might even take them out of the carton.
I'm not telling the others, nephew needs every cent he has and my sister would want to fight the DHR rather than pay her share.  But I felt myself sliding down the hill again so another day off from dragging furniture and definitely no moving the oven to clean underneath so I could take photos to show the store.
The stove is attached to the gas by an extension hose so I can move it around to clean underneath, great idea until I was suddenly fat and old.  
Now we get to the big question.  What comes first, buy the new stove, same as the last, or buy the plumber to give me a quote to do the gas bit. This new generation just throws everything out so will the plumber know what to do with the fittings I have?  Remember the nice new phones that Telstra gave me? They're still sitting in the box because my other phones had different plugs and it will cost me money for the free phones for a technician to fix up all the different fittings.
I do remember the days when you could walk into the Gas and Fuel shop, pay the bill, order a new stove and a gas fitter came with it. See I was gearing myself up to do this when the letter came and I couldn't be bothered putting on the list of 'do this now', podiatrist, eye test, hair cut, find out about the heart scan, find somewhere that sells bed bases and takes the old one away. 

Maybe it is me but there seems to be too many people to argue with these days. The taxi driver went on and on about electric cars and how he'd be forced to get rid of his precious car.  I politely said it would be years and years before anything happened and off he went again.  I went back this time, told him to remembered when cars became common, the government didn't make everyone rush out and shot their horse and burn the buggy. He didn't get a tip after he told me I needed a new walker. 

Next week's temperatures are all in the high 20s, Autumn weather, dragging furniture weather, painting weather and please,feeling better weather. 

Centrelink exists so people have something to hate more than Politicians!

This day cost me $1000, $280 for me to stand there holding the box until everything was ready except I ended up to ill to leave the house.  The girls from the Pioneer Cemetary came to the house and collected mother and sent photos of the work but I didn't get the money back. 

It looks very grubby but then I hadn't been there since the bushfire came through and it needs a good polish. I have silk roses for the new flowers but I need a bag of cement. I put the roses and cement in cut down lemonade bottles and they stay in place.  The raggy ones there were some my sister put in after the fire.  Only two rows were hit by the branches from the enormous pine tree that went up in flames and ours was one. The trouble is now that I need the walker, you can see the red brick path isn't walker friendly.
My grandmother was buried here in 1928 and that big sand patch has been there that long, a 6 coffin plot I believe. My father went there in 1994 and they'd just put another filling of sand over the cracked plot, 2019 and another fresh load has just gone in.  Twenty-five years of filling that ground and it's still disappearing. It's a worry and I walk well away from it.
Anyway the sun was shining and my parents were together on St. Valentine's Day.

Now my mother died on the 17th December, 2018 and the internment was January 14, 2019.  On March 4th, I received a letter from Centrelink to tell me that I had taken money that was not mine. This after all the trouble I had to close the estate, including going to Centrelink to fill in forms and show cards and certificates and asking about the pension payment which was still in the bank. Now a single pensioner is entitled to one extra payment to help with funeral expenses and this is what I thought had been put into her bank account but to make sure I left it alone for two more payment dates, it wasn't taken out and nothing put in.  The girl at Centrelink said it probably was the bereavement payment and if it wasn't taken out at the next due date then close the account and the estate.  The official at the bank agreed so everything was split 3 ways and my sister drove me crazy wanting to know how long before she had the money.  
Then comes this letter, the department is going through everything to make sure if I was entitled to this $916 or not. Doc Marvin said to write down every date I could remember dealing with Centrelink and remember what they'd told me about keeping that money.  Fine, except this was when I really went from huffing and puffing thinking it was something I was allergic to but actually really coughing and hacking sick.  The letter also told me to do nothing and another letter would arrive after investigation, the date is now April 4th and I have to keep $1000 in my bank just in case.  I've missed the sales and the chance to get rid of my old oven with mouse, another letter to remind me to have the gas heater checked, $200, ignore and my walker is starting to fall apart.
I only mention this after reading an article in the paper this morning after a mother was sent a letter saying she owed money for a child she didn't have, a child was sitting with her ready to go to school. Apparently someone hadn't ticked a box on a form, the debt collectors were set on her and she got nowhere until a letter to her local member fixed it. I've taken that on board but no doubt I'll get a letter right in the middle of the election fight.
 

When your body says you're sick, LISTEN

Gorgeous vase by Jay Strongwater but I don't like the colour, picky but one in the palest pink would suit me more.  And that's as far as I got for this post and now on the 1st of April I feel like blogging again.  I was so ill I couldn't leave the house for 4 weeks and Doc Marvin came 3 times.  I don't think I've ever coughed so much in my life and the squeaking, wheezing and whistling in my chest drove me crazy.
I couldn't even go to the Cemetary to bury Mum's ashes but the girls came and picked up the box and sent photographs. I really wanted that day as it was 14th February, St. Valentine's Day and it was a beautiful sunny day for mum and dad to be re-united.  After that I really fell in a heap.  Lying down to sleep was near impossible so I slept wherever I could.  It wasn't unusual to wake up with a cup of tea still in one hand and a sandwich in the other or a lemonade icy pole, lovely cold icy pole.
For the first week I was on Solone to get the fluid out of my lungs.  Pharmacy could have put a warning on the box not to take the first ones at night. Up, down, up, down, and everytime I sat up, cough cough cough, pee and repeat.  I ended up putting a couple of towells at the edge of the bed because I'm not that good at cross legs and cough while standing up. It was a bacterial infection in the lungs and lingered on although I didn't feel really sick just so tired I couldn't think or remember what day it was.
The Bear was worried until he worked out I was okay to feed him and then he got sneaky. I'd be heading for the back door to shut it and he would shoot out knowing I couldn't follow but I can't blame him as it was one of those horrible hot weeks.  Karma got him in the end.  Whatever time I woke up, the cough would start so I'd be up for pills and a cuppa, turn on the news after filling his dish.  No Bear appeared and after an hour I really worried. I vaguely remember hearing a faint miouw but I slipped into sleep, so it wasn't a screaming, raging cat fight.  So sick mummy staggered round the yard, went out to check the street for a body, nothing.  Nephew rang to see if I wanted anything and was straight over to look for the precious.  As his car pulled up, the precious strolled out of my bedroom where he'd been hiding and threw his paws round Steve''s leg. You could almost hear the sobbing story of what had happened to him during the night. Never mind me! He had one huge hole in his ear and one large scratch on his shoulder, nothing else except PTSD.
It doesn't end there.  I couldn't figure what was floating around the apple tree until it hit the concrete.  I went out with a stick to poke at it and so help me it was the black fluffy end of a possum's tail, bitten straight through. I'm still trying to work out who got to who first. No wonder he wouldn't come out of the wardrobe and the hole in the ear won't come together to heal, too big and I have threatened to put his registration tag in it.
I must thank "Paws and Whiskers" pet shop who delivered his kibble when I was too ill to go out.
Last week I was well enough to go and get litres of blood taken, a chest X-ray and a CT scan of my heart.  They gave me a dvd of the scan but the Doc is taking a well-earned holiday so I'll see him eventually.  The X-ray showed the heart was the right size but the CT scan was needed to show the tissue or whatever was around it. He said my sugar was up but what can you do when living on lemonade icy poles.
Mum's stuff is still in a pile in the lounge but I am gradually getting it down. My things are going as well, I'm doing that Japanese Lady's method of throwing out, you look at ornament, book or whatever and say, "do you make me happy?" and if it's no then it's gone.  So instead of space I have two huge boxes full of unhappiness.  Next up is the Queen Ann crystal cabinet, going into the sewing room which will involve a bit of shuffling in there but honestly I can't stand the cigarette smell, 40 years of cigarette smoke have been embedded in the wood.
I plan to put quilting fabric in it as fabric can be washed and I can put huge bowls of potpourrie in the cabinet.
I even found a box of Christmas presents that I didn't send two Christmases ago. Not my fault, always there was a crisis near Christmas. Highriser, your present is next only because it's been sitting on the table for so long, the box has faded and looks like an op shop re-gift.
I hope it's not so long before I blog again.
  

More trouble.

Unbelievable Monday.

I rang to make the appointment at the main Cemetary and they have no record of me owning the family grave.  

Apparently  there was a new mob take over and papers have gone missing.

Fortunately or unfortunately I only have my handwritten letters (no computer then) for the relo's to copy out and no Stat Dec anywhere.  That was in July 2000 when I found out ownership could be transferred to another member of the family.

I can't bury mother until it's sorted.

I can't close the bank accounts because Centrelink hasn't confirmed the last payment is legal.

The Death Certificate hasn't arrrived.

I have a nervous twitch in one eye that just won't stop.

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and panicked because there was no time in the morning, idiot me, I don't have to have one in the morning to rush down to the Home for the afternoon.

I have an appointment on Thursday for the Cemetary to sort out the missing paperwork and thanks to my hoarding I still have the receipts for the grave and the plaques from 1996.

I'm really going to have to start drinking.

Its not finished yet and she's still in the wardrobe.

First a lolcat. If I tried to do this with my cat the room would be trashed and as for a num-num spoon, he does have one absolute essential. He won't drink water if it's not in his blue 'Frozen' bowl with Olav on the bottom.

We have been promised a thunderstorm tonight and cool rain tomorrow.  I walked to the shop for coffee and a paper at 8.30 and it was like walking in hot sun at midday. Not a cloud in the sky and thank goodness for the one person in the street who has a low fence where I can gather my resources for the last part of the trek.  I have not been a sporty type since I could stand on my own two feet and 70 years on I haven't changed. On top of my greatest invention list is the tv remote control, without that I'd probably break a leg getting to the turn off button every time a poncy politician hits the screen.

I am still waiting for Centrelink to send a letter telling me the last payment is mine and that will pay for the grave plaque. Next week I'll make an appointment with one cemetary to organize the other cemetary for the interment and since I'll be the one bringing mum I can suit myself as to what time.  I can photograph the grave at the same time for the stonemason. This is why I refuse to rush into things these days.  It's important to bury her but the plaque can wait a bit longer and so can my sister.

She can't understand why everything isn't finished yet. She must be desperate, she gave me her bank account number, put in money asap.  I'll run around in the stinking heat while you paddle in the pool in 28 degrees with a sea breeze. They haven't even had any flood waters or rain and I was really hoping for a crocodile in the pool.  

And as hot as it is I'm glad I'm not in Chicago.  For the last few years  I have encouraged Elephant's Child to go out in the freezing weather in Canberra and blow soap bubbles to freeze them.  She had a good success last year but Chicago is the place. I watched the news as bubbles were blown and froze in mid-air in gorgeous patterns. I  also watched buckets of water thrown and frozen before it hit the ground. A complete waste unless a politician was standing right in front of the bucket. 

I think I'll gather my strength and fix some ice coffee, and I'll have one for all of you as well.
 

I think I see a small light in the distance

Bright looking lot weren't we.  I've been going through dvds looking for photos of the family grave and came across this which I'm sure I used on a post about the last GrogBlog.  Since most of us in the early blogging days used a fake face and name, taking photos was very naughty and plus none of use had mobile phones that sneakily took photos, it was hard to get away with it.  I do remember Annie O'Dyne publishing one photo shot in a darkened pub of a publicity shy blogger who then gave her such vicious comments we were all shocked. I mean from what I can remember the place was so dark he could have been a cabbage on a stick.  GrogBlogs were fun if you could find the latest hole in the wall, alley,
side street, where we gathered and the usual instructions were to follow the raucous laughter.  Then the Appocalypse arrived in the form of FarceBook and the laughter moved on.  This photo made me laugh and then I found a folder full of LOLcats and laughed more.

I had to put this up since I had a run in with one who was quite comfy in the towell I was about to put in the washing machine.  Yes, it has been some time since I bothered about washing but I ran out of nighties. I have worn nighties since the first fall when I was without a stitch of clothing and had to drag myself to the lingerie drawer and all I could grab was some old rag with one sleeve missing.  I loved LOLcats but now it's all ads and clickbaits or youtubes.

I will be off to the Home (shudder) tomorrow to pick up my mother's Medicare and Pension cards and any other official papers that I think should have been sent to me after she died.  I have to do this before Thursday when another payment goes into her bank account.  I will be telling Centrelink just whose fault it is, you Mercy Health not for profit bull shitters. I will say Happy Birthday to the last one left of the ten year mob but if she start bawling, I'll be off. I know my brain has been running in 'stupid' mode but I really did think that if a resident died in a nursing home, they should have let Centrelink know.  I checked the list and one I missed was the Electoral Comm.  Mum was really wild when she was not asked if she wanted to vote in the last state election, Mercy Health make the decision for her, wrong move as her brain was still running at that stage and she gave them what for.  I think I also have to notify the tax office because she does have a tax number and getting that was a nightmare.

There'll be time when she goes......

No there won't because the after dying stuff goes on and on and on. Money was put into Mum's account again last week and that light bulb blinks. Who informs Centrelink of a person who has died in the care of a nursing home, me, Power of attorny and next of kin or Mercy Health admin?  I had 6 tabs open on the MyGov web page and still couldn't find the answer and there are several options for a funeral payment and only one would fit our situation, which is a single pension payment but I thought that had already been paid into the bank account.

Apparently the chain of command is, Doctor's Certificate stating cause of death which lets the funeral minions take charge and they inform Births, Marriages and Deaths and sooner or later a Certificate will arrive with a note telling me to have someone with me when I open it as it might distress me only if it's 3 months from now and Centrelink is still putting money in the account.  
The death is magically flittered over to Centrelink and they send me a letter probably abusing me for not letting them know.

I don't need it for the Cemetary since I have Mum sitting in the wardrobe. I do have to make an appointment with them to sign papers to have a hole dug. An official stands by and for $450 watches the 2nd official digger dig the hole. They only have hole digging on Thursdays and Sundays and if a mob turns up I have to pay for the extras but it will be Thursday and only me.  The Monumental Mason is across the road from the Cemetary and I can walk there and order the bronze plaque which slides in next to my father's.  That's after I go to the Pioneer Cemetary and take a photo of the plaque to get the size right.
That starts at $900 depending on how many words are to go on it.  Heaven help me if the nag above doesn't get the last word. 
Look up Pioneer Cemetary at Cheltenham, it has some famous people there and very interesting to walk around.

So not having a reason to close down the bank accounts is a good thing.

I have the silk flowers to go in the lovely urn but not cement to put the flowers in lemonade bottles. My genius, when they get tatty I just take out the bottles, throw them away and make up another lot of lovely flowers. The roses lasted 8 years until the bush fire went through and our plot was the unlucky one to get frizzled.  Official funeral expenses, taxi to Bunnings, bag of cement, taxi home.
Fix flowers, taxi to cemetary, plant and taxi home. I think I'll go and have another look for photos so I can cut out one step. Photos are everywhere included a load I brought back from the Home.

Death Certificate will not upset me, someone walking into the house and asking why don't I just get a company to some in and do the cleaning up, upsets me. That's my Mother's junk and I have to go through it, especially when I find a birthday card from two years ago, for me, and she was upset when she couldn't find it so made another one. It's a tradition for a Victorian Spinster Daughter to go through and burn any thing that would trash a dear Mama's reputation, Queen Victoria's daughter practically re-wrote her diaries and Princess Margaret had a bonfire of the Queen Mum's letters but all I found were notes for me to buy this and that.














 

If I have to speak to one more robot......

Mother on the  (my) left and twin sister on the right.  If I never have to speak to her again I'll be happy after her ringing me on Christmas morning to demand that her eulogy be read out since she couldn't come because of illness. I gathered from that comment that she intended to stand up and blither on with her usual load of BS.  Sister and I had fights about allowing people to speak but I don't agree with letting people who aren't used to speaking to a crowd get up and waffle on.  I wanted what mum asked me for and she got it.

It goes on and on.  I have been on the phone for nearly 3 hours with bank, Home and Pharmacy and in the finish I had the choice of paying the Pharmacy or going through ebanking looking for a payment I'm sure I paid and he has just charged me again.  I'm too brain dead after wanting to strangle the pious little creep from Mercy Health who said naturally the direct debits stopped as soon as they were notified of death.  Well it would have been nice had they sent me a letter and set it all out.  I think I have paid for everything now but I should have put what I paid into my bank account and then put that into Visa because if can't take that out, see brain dead.  Pension this week and I will put that where the visa money should be.  Can't use anything yet until I get death certificate and will which I think I have and I suppose I have to pay for that and I forgot the Cemetary stuff.  They charge to dig a hole.  I'm going to bed to sleep.















 

It's a quarter to three and no-one's in the place except you and me

And you weren't talking anymore.  Mum died at 2 a.m. Monday morning and I went straight down well not quite straight, I made a detour to put my teeth in, check the knickers and no one could see my nightdress under the dress.
What were the odds of getting a regular driver, one who had driven me for the last 10 years. He said he'd keep an ear out for a call from Brindisi and come to pick me up which he did.
Now there's a story that when someone close dies, they always leave a message to say they reached the other side safely.  I have curtains in the kitchen on a sliding rod to fit any window, never moved in l0 years until last night when I found the sliding rod had slid out completely and half the curtains were on the floor, good one Mum.  I didn't see the huge spider web until the morning, that'll get a spray later.
I think I had about an hour's sleep with the cat cuddling mummy until the phone rang. My sister trying to manage things from Yeppoon, no one is ever going to tell me what to do ever again.
Back to the Home again and packed up enough clothes and rubbish to outfit a cruise on the Titanic. One of the rules is that residents are not to have scissors, Mother had 15 pairs hidden in various places.  I ended with 7 bags, 2 large and heavy and the others smaller but still heavy since I packed her photographs in between the clothes.  I thoroughly object to bringing her teeth home but the funeral joint might need them.
I've left the wheelchair there after making sure they wouldn't send it to the tip but would use it for someone else.  And another 35 CDs and 25 DVDs.
According to my sister my place is such a tip, another load of junk wouldn't matter. Bitch.
Nephew will ring in the morning to pick up the junk and me. He is devastated, for the last week he's called in every night, held her hand and patted her head then left.
River, your pies are well hidden until Christmas, they smell delicious.
I still have people to ring but I needed a break.  Why do people want me to cry about a death I'm happy with.  I've watched her struggle to breathe for the last two weeks and now she's calm and in no pain.  The only crying I'll do is if I go to punch my sister and hurt my arthritic hand.
And I found out she had an admirer, a gentleman caller every Monday which I never knew about. He came in this morning, totally shocked and asked if I minded him coming to the funeral, not in the slightest. Who knew, she had secrets.
Readers of this blog might remember the hysteria about putting up the Christmas lights all over the damn house, damn I hated those bloody lights.  Well all the way to the Home and it was dark but as we passed house after house, lights flickered on and off.  Don't care I'm still not putting any up on this house.

I'd rather do this to the cat and treat the shredded arms later. It will give me something to do while I think about new curtains and punching my sister.
 
 

Still hanging in there

There is a Palliative team coming on Monday to install a little morphine machine somewhere on Mother.  She has morphine when she needs it but it's another jab, clothes have to be moved, sheets and pillows then all has to be put back just right so it's not a quick thing.
I go down about 1, after lunch when everything is more or less done and I'm not in the way but the RN says she loves the way she settles down when I walk in the door. I don't take a book but have several magazines, reading a book seems to say I'm here but don't bother me but I can show her pretty pictures in a magazine and she enjoys that. She drops off to sleep after a while but still can't breathe very well especially when some twit puts the wrong size tube on the oxygen machine or turns it off completely when reaching for another bell.  They don't get away with much, I've been there too long.
She's now finding it hard to swallow food and I had a stoush with an officious little bimbo who insisted on shoving food into her as though she was a starving baby bird.  The bimbo learned to listen when she found herself on the end of a projectile vomit.
I've been taking little things home with me and she gave most of her craft cards to her sister when she came last week.  And speaking of cards, I found one large one in 3 envelopes, she'd written on the front, in spidery writing, 'don't ever lose this' and when I finally opened the 3rd envelope I found a beautiful card.  Thank you Annie O'Dyne, she loved that card so much she resisted the urge to cut it up and re-use it. 
Weekends are always dreary at the Home so I'm having breakfast, feeding the cat and watching the news and no doubt will fall asleep in the chair and wake up in time to head out.
The cat is not speaking to me, how dare I leave him alone for weeks. So he gets an extra can of food before I leave.  I thought I might have lost him last night.  We had one wild clap of thunder which felt right over the house, all the lights went and I grabbed the big torch.  I looked for the cat and he was flat on the floor like a Bear rug and not moving. As soon as he saw the light he was up on my knee and stayed there until all the lights came back.  And then I got a look that said 'what did you do that for?' I'm glad cats can't talk, I couldn't stand the guilt.
Another update at some stage. Doc Marvin, gem, an absolute gem. I'm sorry I can't share him with the bloggers who need a doctor like him.