I nearly deleted the blog

I have to start with a laugh these days or I'd never keep going.  Yes, I very nearly gave it all up yesterday. I couldn't find a thing to say, my brain is disappearing into some blackhole and it's all hanging by a cosmic string.  So I was sitting here deciding when I knocked the flat screen over the back of the table but no damage done with my foot breaking its fall.  It also took the lamp with it and all my bits of paper with irreplaceable notes and bits of blog ideas.  Lots of swearing involved in getting it back up plus prayers that nothing had happened to it.  I might have found some dill nice person interested in taking the treadmill and that would be such a nice Christmas present.  I might be inclined to tidy up the study and put down new carpet since I'm almost through to the concrete floor in places.

And mother has lasted another year.  Depression at the back of my mind just waiting for the wrong moment to gallop out and hit me.  The yawning black hole of 2016 stretches ahead,  visit, recover, visit and on and on.  She is more tired, in bed more often than not and has another chest infection.  For the first time she has all her cards finished and filed and isn't doing any more.  The boxes, usually all over her corner at this time of year, are neatly stacked. She watches only her favourite dvds and doesn't bother with the others.  And Christmas is only 25 days away but StarWars is only 16 days away so she can go after either date but not before.  Besides I haven't paid for her teeth yet.

Sister is still in pain, poor thing.  Yes, that's a poor attempt at sympathy.  And pink cricket balls?
Abbott planning an insurrection?  He couldn't plan his jockstrap right way round.  Malcolm T, sounds like a stateman, speaks with a forked tongue like the Liberal to the bone that he is.  And please someone put Dutton out of my misery and hand him a poison chalice.  Not that I'm happy with Victorian Politics, the Labor party is beginning to rival Canberra for fuck-ups.  Give us trains on tracks instead of promises not that I'll be using them.  I'm having enough trouble with bus drivers who hate walkers.

So pleased I did not fork out the loot for the ritzy walker.  I now have several other choices for the money.  I'm almost there for a dishwasher but can't afford the plumber.  A shade cloth over the front patio but what a waste if I win Tattslotto and build the conservatory I really want.  Concrete ramps at all the outside doors because I'll kill myself lifting the bloody walker over the steps but have you had a quote for concrete lately? I don't nearly have enough for that.  I keep getting junk mail for a cleaning service, how lovely but I couldn't let them in before I cleaned up and if I cleaned up I wouldn't need the cleaning service. A freestanding exhaust that goes over the stove, I could do that but I can't afford the carpenter to rip out the cupboards over the stove to put the exhaust up. That would also involve a plasterer and a paint job and God forbid that I should disturb SuperMouse who is still alive and not fried because he's made a nest out of the insulating material between the stove walls.  Which is really why I don't need a freestanding exhaust because I bought a bench oven so I wouldn't have to put the big one on.  Don't laugh, it's perfectly rational to a humanitarian.

I've missed a lot of science stuff this year including my darling boys who won a heap of awards and I've only just found out by Internet stalking because they've been overseas so often this year I haven't been able to catch up.  Thank you Abbott for dismissing Science as fiction in favour of your Bible studies.  

And in case you are wondering, the cat is fine.

Ritzy wheelie cancelled

Go Daffy, I understand perfectly.  It all started early yesterday morning with a visit to Medicare/Centrelink and if I ever find out which imbecile decided it would be a good idea to move Medicare from Southland to the middle of nowherebus, I will pull his limbs off and beat him to death.
People everywhere so I decided not to wait and get my medicare card unhooked from my mother's bank account where it's been for 6 years.  What's another few months of her paying for my doctor's bills since she's the reason I visit.
Next Southland and a walk to the bus over cobblestones, up, down, sideways and no op shop buys because of a six inch step to get the walker over.  Bus came bringing trouble.  Now I know most women can multi-task with ease but wrangling a bag over the shoulder while getting the walker up the step while touching on the myki as you turn the corner into the bus proper and fall into a seat is a neat trick.
Getting off the bus in reverse is worse because there is a drop to the pavement which I usually manage by swinging off the pole. In this case it was touch off and bodily throw the walker out the door and buggar you lot waiting to get on, me first.
Missed the stop where the lift is.  Well, says I, managed the bus so what's the problem about an escalator.  Nothing actually except for the fact that the walker begins to tower over one's head as the bloody thing reaches the top, take the brakes off and don't let the bag slip off the shoulder and make a run like you're going for Platform 1+3/4.
Still on the 2nd floor and need 3rd but I know where the lift is.  $39 for a camera battery later and I'm on the downhill run and food.  I know I should have asked for it all in a bag but I've handled large trolleys and trays before but but small walkers, different animals.  Tray and food go one way, walker goes the other.  Thank you lovely girls who picked up the mess while I stood wanting to die.  Foodies gave me a free meal, darlings.
Still going downhill, heading towards the lift, decide because of screaming in pain foot to go down the travelvator.  Done that before with large trolley, but large trolley has grip wheels, walker doesn't and is wobbling from side to side because there's no way I'm letting go of one hand on the rail. 
I'm still on the 2nd floor, need ground floor for eggs so groan all the way to the lift, gallantly let women and children go first only because of the screaming and waving of ice-creams. 
Finally eggs, lettuce and Aldi's treasure of Christmas goodies which I wasn't going in for but specials which I was, hadn't arrived yet.  Muttering under breath I finally stagger towards taxi.
Driver very kindly throws walker onto back seat where it just fits.  Throws everything else in as well, the eggs survived. Throws everything out when we reach home sweet home.
Walker in front, try opening large gate without doing in a rib.  Lift walker over the half inch to the driveway, walk half on grass and half on drive because it doesn't fit.  Lift walker up two steps, lose another rib opening front door, lift walker up step to house.
Run in grab phone and cancel order for ritzy big arse walker.  I am not going anywhere where I will have the need to sit down.

Same thing today. Taxi to Doc Marvin who falls on desk laughing when I crash into his office door after missing the half inch carpet strip.  Blood pressure up a bit 166/80, BGL up but consistantly the same up for the last two months and it's not much.  Blood test sometime before Christmas.  BGL my fault for not reading the bottle that says take two, I can't see the damn things let alone read at that time of the morning. I have a full box of panic pills but I panic if I don't have a script.  All done.
Crash walker into surgery door  because it opens in.  Nearly fall over the footpath where the gumtree has tilted it like an earthquake landslide.
Safely across the road, safely to the bus stop, safely into the bus with the help of a schoolkid.  Driver waits patiently for me to negotiate downward to the footpath.  Kerb is six inches below me so by this time throwing the walker and following is becoming second nature.  Negotiate 3 doors into the Home where I fall into a chair and get hysterical laughter instead of sympathy. And that was my mother.

So I have worked out exactly where I will be walking with walker and it's not far.  The taxi company will be safely in the black while I'm out and about. Stuff buses.  There is a plus, I didn't panic once about falling over because of my lousy balance. On the minus side it didn't help one bit with the foot crunching pain. 

Downhill run to Christmas

That's Cup Week over for another year and I bet there's a lot of feet that felt like they'd been wearing this shoe.  And for once I loved the Cup run, a female won on a 101-1 cracker of a horse trained in Australia.  That's what makes the Cup a special race, no matter how much money you pour into a horse to win, in this race it's all chance.

My sister has had her knee replacement. A brutal, brutal operation that she will never have done ever again even if she has to hobble if the other knee gives out.  Not a word to me who had it done 20 years ago, two knees 15 months apart.  She had the whole knee replaced, I kept the kneecaps because it was supposed to be easier.  I have scars 33cms long, she has a 6 inch fine scar with 4 steri-strips and no external stitches.  My surgeon worked with his own physiotherapist and the minute I opened my eyes I was exercising, as far as I know she hasn't had any physio yet but is pleased with her 90 degree bend.  After 6 weeks I was up to 135 degrees.  I know this isn't a competition but she's so bloody smug about everything except the pain.  She has pain, she rang up asking when did the pain stop, bwahahahaha!  Lovely.

Mother is still here.  She is getting new bottom teeth and with Murphy's law will be buried with new choppers. The Home has been taken over by Southern Cross Care and handover will be March 2016. 
I think that's when I went clunk, the worry about if I'd have to move her or what was going on, if anything, suddenly stopped.  Their catering staff have already taken on the kitchen and the food is the best in the 6 years she's been there.  Any complaints and the Chef comes to talk to the resident in person.  She's already worked out a menu for mum for the no teeth weeks.  I might even get myself down there for a decent Christmas Dinner this year.

I still have my saved up loot for the new big A walker.  I'm on a loaner at the moment and you lot are lucky that I don't drive a car.  I'm bad enough on the footpath with four wheels let alone on a road. I have to make a decision soon before everything shuts for the loony season but after the treadmill disaster, I'm being careful.  I have tried to walk on the treadmill with trainers but the foot still hurts like hell and will never be better.  At least the walker helps with my terrible balance problem.  I still look like I'm two sheets to the wind when walking but with something to hold onto it feels better. 

Vinnie's car has left the building to be replaced by a bucket of rust.  But I am assured that this is a collector's item and he was so lucky to get it in this condition. If I could have stood up again, I'd have rolled on the ground laughing.  But I was shown photos of newly renovated rust buckets and I have to admit they are good looking cars.  He did tell me what kind of car it was but you know me and cars, I only know they have 4 wheels outside and one inside.  Still have the Falcon and the soft top VW which I have seen painted in a rich metallic crimson and black.  I fell in love with that. He says no, basic blue and cream top, damn.  My sister is still carrying on about him making my house look like a tip but a no rent driveway for a year makes a cheap Christmas present.

I am still hoping to convince Miss O'Dyne to start a new blog about her adventures in country living but she is busy chopping trees, killing snakes and being .05 every time she collects the mail from the pub. I sat outside the local milkbar in the sun this morning and thought how lovely for summer nights if they could get a drink licence for the locals.  Then I thought about getting that bloody walker across the road, so maybe not.

As a final word, isn't life dull without the Mad Monk and Hokey Hockey?

Overdue, everything called life.

Which is why I haven't blogged for so long.

Hopefully my fogged up mind will see me through what's left of the year.

I mean who shoved Christmas this close to my breakdown.