This must be a joke, please

From the Sunday Herald Sun:

PIGEON LOCKED UP
Indian police are holding a pigeon under armed guard and have banned anyone from visiting it in the Punjab after it was caught on an alleged spying mission for arch rival and neighbour Pakistan.

Pure Peter Sellers.

I'm a day late for the celebration

How could I have forgotten the wonderful day of the 28th of May. Emancipation Day. The 'Blight walked off with the Blonde' Day. Freedom from cooking, washing, snoring, door banging, radio slightly off station annoying buzz, crashing of gates, bashing of garbage wheelie bins, in fact the silence when he left was deafening. I still can't stand having the radio on.

Forgetting was easy since I saw mater yesterday. I missed the bus by a second, walked down to the pharmacy, picked up the registered mail and while the stupid man, who knows me but still wanted to see ID, made me miss the second bus. While waiting for the third bus, the sky rained on me.

So walking through Mentone, cold, still not well and hungry, I stopped at a small fish and chip shop. I haven't had fish and chips for years and it was well worth the wait. The chips were crispy and the fish was at least an inch thick without the batter. Perhaps it was the hunger but I savoured every mouthful. There was another woman having lunch and enjoying the shop's speciality, deep fried battered hamburger. No bun, just the hamburger in batter and a layer of tomato sauce. She said she'd be back for more and she was thin, I hate it when thin people eat stuff like this and stay thin. It'll be another year before I indulge in this treat again.

Which brings me to a word that is going into my memory bank. Researchers use laboratory rats for biomedical research but there are concerns that the rodents aren't up to it. They're not exercising, eating too much food and so like a teenage couch potato they're overfed, unfit and obese and developing a range of health problems and are dying prematurely. So how can the experimental results of any research be called a success? These animals are housed in obesogenic conditions. OBESOGENIC, fantastic word. It should be printed over every cake shop I pass, my fridge, my chocolate stash, the bottle of Pepsi I've hidden for emergencies. It should be tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

It should also be printed all over that container of fat sludge that's been in the news. 2000 calories in one container! But what I want to know is how icecream and peanut butter is considered a taste sensation. It's obesogenic.

No apples here

For a start I just love the gold butterfly mouse and would have it for the desktop because it's pretty.

But this is serious pretty. The Butterfly Lovers HP Mini 210. Gold and butterflies, it's calling to me.

Designed by Vivienne Tam, less than 3cm thick and blingingly gold. I am loving the gold. Apple Ipad, dull. Butterfly Lovers Rule! Priced at $799 but if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

Good for blogging the ghost ride over the Titanic.

Superstitious, me?

This is the lovely "Balmoral" cruising here in sunny waters but in 2012, she'll be re-creating the journey of the "Titanic".
She'll be sailing from Southhampton, to Cobh in Ireland then to the Titanic wreck site, from there to Halifax and New York.
Would you believe nearly all the cabins are booked out?
I don't think I'll go, been there, done that.
All the 'New Agers' seem to think that the world is coming to an end of some kind in 2012 according to the Mayan Calender which happens to stop at that date. Probably someone just forgot to bash up another stone calender but if the world was going through a strange time I suppose the Balmoral would be just the place to watch it.
If you want to check it out http://www.titanicmemorialcruise.co.uk is the place.

All of me is not well and that's a whole lot of not well

Last Wednesday, Southland, the cavacade of wheelchairs and me riding trolley for my mother's shopping.
"Do I have money?" "Yes."
"Good, I'll have that lace cardigan and in all those colours."
And so it begins.....

Thursday, Southland, one trolley but half of it is taken up with cat items. Why does my shopping list now begin with 'Kitty litter' and the register read-out ends with me approaching bankruptcy.

Friday, cooking all the stuff I bought yesterday and fighting with the Electoral Commission again.

Saturday, down to the home away from home with new Electoral Roll papers. I have to go because I know I'll find two witnesses on Saturday. Get roped in to call Bingo. I forget it's not a race to the finish and I'm not calling the Melbourne Cup. Mother to the right of me telling me what to do, little old ladies to the left of me throwing down plastic tops on their bingo boards like the Titanic was sinking. Telling ma to shut up every two minutes in between numbers is giving them the best laugh they've had in days. The only thing livelier was the fly flitting around and that committed suicide in Gordy's coffee.

No, I'm not doing it again.

Sunday, pain is my friend. It stays my friend and it is still friendly with me. If it doesn't piss off by tomorrow, it'll be the doctor and a surgery full of lung fairies. I've got my own germs and I don't like to share unlike others who think it's their mission in life.

I hate being sick, it makes my hair turn grey and fall out. You'd think the way I'm built, (brick shouse comes to mind) it would make the fat fall off but not in my world. In the words of the great Arnie, "I'll be back!"

A Tryanny of Cats

That's how they should be labelled especially this black and white tyrant.
She sits on my knee between 8.30 and 10.30 so reading or knitting or crochet is out of the question.
She likes to have food in the dish at all times even if she doesn't eat it immediately. I've made allowances for this because of the upheaval of leaving mum's house.
I sit and break up whiskettes in a mortor and pestle because she only has four teeth left.
She likes to go out the front door and in the back door but at night she likes the light on.
She can spray crystal kitty litter 360 degrees. It's not so bad now that I've moved it more into the laundry and instead of ending up in the lounge, it just hits the laundry wall. Standing on crystal litter in bare feet in a dark kitchen makes for a lot of swearing.
She likes one last stroll outside before settling down for the night but the stroll is at midnight and it doesn't matter if I've turned off the light and settled down for the night.
She likes to go out at first light, fine in summer but now, re-training in progress.
It didn't work this morning. Caterwauling in old worn out moggie voice which is like running a saw across violin strings. Staggered up to open door, bashed leg on blanket box, lose balance and do several pirrouettes across bedroom floor before crashing into door.
Sobbing, swearing, groaning and snivelling, I opened the back door, made it go out (likes the front door) and said if it came near me again, it was dead.
Reawakened at 9.30 by eyes boring into my brain but not a sound, silent communication.


This would all be bearable if the beast didn't crawl all over the BrickOutHouse when he calls in to pat her and tell her how much he's missing his baby. You can almost see the vibes while she's trying to tell him how vile I am to live with, well snap you little rotter.

Heeeeeeeeere's Mother

I finally finished the film in my camera so here's MummyWorld. This is her corner of the four bed ward and I think we've added two more photographs since this was taken. I made the sparkly wreath for Christmas but she liked it so much, it's still up.

And this is the view from her bedside through floor to ceiling glass door and window. I'm not good at photos, you all know that, but hanging from the seed bell in the centre of the frame are two lorikeets. The little pottery possum on the post we brought from the house along with two garden gnomes. We usually hang two or three bells along the pergola not only for the lorikeets but the other native birds that hang out in the flowering gum. The pigeons go for the bits left on the ground. They don't seem to be good at hanging on to the bells especially when a lorikeet is attacking.

This was taken on Christmas Day. She was still looking very fragile even after being there for just under four months. We'd just sold the house so we were all relieved at not scratching for money to pay bills.

This was taken in January with her great granddaughter. We made a surprise visit but with so many little Asian nurses looking after her, it was a minute before she recognised her. She's now look a lot brighter and more with it.

This was taken at the end of March and she'd made it to her 80th birthday. Don't bother with the fat tart at the back, just someone she knows. The old girl's got colour, bright eyes and totally with it and more importantly, no pain.

I will be in pain after Wednesday because I stupidly opened my big mouth and will now play escort to the wheelchair posse for a Southland visit. I have to go, I have her eftpos card and she is looking forward to a shopping trip, the first she's been on for over 6 years. I get to pay and wheel the trolley and fetch the coffee and plan the shortest route between shops. I don't get to wheel the chair, thank you for dodgy knees.

I hate this time of year

Because it's getting cold and I want the fire on but I always think of people who can't afford heating or are sleeping rough through no fault of their own. It takes at least a month before I kick that switch on and settle down to thaw out. Sorry, cold people, but I'm feeling my age earlier each year.

One can always put the cat on one's lap for warmth but it is physically impossible to knit if one does that. If the cat isn't trying to put out an eye with the needles, it's gagging on the half ball of wool it's shoved down its throat.

So this time of year I'm always verging on depression for the most trivial of reasons. I also burst into tears a lot. I also eat too much which makes me loathe Magda and Jenny Craig ads but switching channels usually brings me to a KFC ad. Why do they put KFC ads on near midnight? It's not like they deliver and, praise the goddess, I don't have a car or I'd have the keys in the ignition before you could say 'junk food'.

It's a bit late to be bitching about Mothers Day but I've only just finished Sunday's papers because I had to visit the mother. I didn't have to but I'm great at laying a guilt trip on myself and I was going somewhere really pleasant for me on Monday, so I did. I took her chocolates but I bought them with her money just to be snarkey.

Back to the bitching bit. The papers were full of mother and baby stories, grown up kids and mother stories but not one single instance of same sex mothers and their children. Not one single mention anywhere. Tossers! Single mothers and child got mentioned but no same sex partners. Wouldn't it have been nice if one paper had had the guts to put out a full page of lovely mums and their lovely kids but not a mention.

Mother Nature agrees with me. I just looked out of the window above the computer and there is a rainbow stretching across the sky.

GEM ART

This is a 155.83 carat Aquamarine carved by Micheal M Dyber for the 2009 American Gem Trade Association. It was for the Combination Section for a gemstone design incorporating two or more lapidary techniques. He used "Optic dishes" and "Photon Phacets" to create this piece.




This brooch by Frederic Sage was from the 2009 Awards and won 'Best of Show'. Called "Enchanted Stallion", it featured a 158.26 carat hand-carved natural Turquoise, white diamonds and demantiod garnets, all set in 18 carat green and white gold.




But this is my favourite from the 2008 Awards. It is an 80 carat Aquamarine cabochon carved by Chu- Alice Chan. I love the swirls and the heart and the colour.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS

That's right, I'm still trying to come to grip with the fact that Kingston Council has shown signs of intelligent life.

This year's Harvest Festival on Saturday, May 29 from 11am to 11pm will be a ripper. No bring your own booze or animals allowed but best of all no fireworks.

At 6pm and 11pm the organizers are going to release hundreds of sky lanterns. They're made of biodegradable bamboo and will float to light up the sky. No loud bangs, no shattered animals but lots of pretty.

Fancy a council having a brain.

MY FEET HURT UP TO MY FINGERS

This is mine, mine, all mine. The actual gem isn't as brilliantly flashy as this but more of a delicate pansy shading. I'll probably have it set with very dark amethysts or black Russian diamonds to give it the look of a garden pansy. Yes, I'll do that immediately I win Tattslotto.

I was right about the redback spider. Apparently the freak weather conditions have brought a plague of creatures including the redbacks. The National Pest Control said there hasn't been a redback plague like this in 15 years. Wasps that usually arrive in November and December, didn't turn up until February but around these parts didn't arrive at all. Termites are two months later but in higher numbers.

I didn't watch the 4 Corners programme on the child chocolate slaves last night, I just couldn't handle more children being exploited by shitful adults. I should have watched because I wanted to know if they're using children as cheap labour or because the adults are debilitated by AIDS.

I wished I hadn't read the article in the paper on Sunday about porkers (not me, real pigs). I don't get these conceptual artists but this woman, can't remember name and feet too sore to get up and get the article, but she followed a pig from slaughter to end product and that wasn't just food. The animal ends up every where, from paint brushes to beauty products AND licorice.

I can't believe it, my favourite nosh of chocolate covered licorice is now forbidden to me. Could I just bite it and not get a vision of child slavery and Babe? No, damn it. Sometimes ignorance is bliss and licorice.

Why is it that looking at the distance on a map and actually walking it are two different things?
20 minute walk to bus stop, get out at Nepean Highway and walk through three shops on the way to Southland which seemed to get further and further away the more I walked. Finally I made it then there were steps but at the top was a cafe and booze. It did taste lovely. Then I got to walk all over Southland for mother's things and fecking cat food but only because it was on special, 30 cans yesterday and another 30 on Thursday should see it not starve for a week or two. By the time I staggered into the home, I could barely talk for pain so mother talked for me.

So walk again to the PO agency before the rain today. I haven't been to the bakery since sometime in January and she made me the best Capuccino I've had since then. The cocoa covered foam was at least 2cm above the cup. I was looking forward to drinking it until the wind whipped up and I was wearing it, fortunately I was quick enough to save the bag with the apple cake in it. Thanks to River, I put in the film from my camera which is a total mystery to me. I've had it in there for a year and since I didn't go anywhere, what's on it? Pick up registered mail and stagger home to find the cat sitting accusingly at its bowl. I wasn't gone that long and it ate before I left, walking stomach.

The Hun on Sunday had a recipe for Bailey's Irish Cream cupcakes with BIC icing, I'm filing that with my recipe for Bailey's fudge but tonight I think I'll just drink it until it flows down to the feet.