I just killed an ant..

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.

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. 

Dreams.

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.

Blogger stole my blog.

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.

Spring Madness.

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.

Just give me Pavlova

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.

It's dusk.

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.

Oh, the irritation of it all.

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.

Nothing like a good meme.

PONDERISMS

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.

Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

There are two kinds of pedestrians: the quick and the dead.

Life is sexually transmitted.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

Have you noticed since everyone has a phone camera these days no one talks about seeing UFOs like they used to?



Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again...

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

In the 60's, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

How is it one careless match can start a bush fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?"

Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there? I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta its bum.

Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?

If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?

Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
      
       

And why haven't any of these questions ever occurred to me before I received this meme email?

Hippo Birdy Miss O'Dyne.

From one graduate of the Elly Lukas School of Elegance to another, I give you a dress and the wish that we both looked like Christy Turlington back in the days instead of the Mod chicks we were.

 And a cake, black and white, forever elegant but never fattening especially on a birthday.

And the present. Choices, what choices but I decided on Lawrence Graff instead of Harry Winston.
Just in keeping with the black and white theme. I thought of the Widow and her Champagne but with those heels, you'd kill yourself so we'll stick to G&T, Bombay Sapphire naturally.

When tree huggers go bad.

I wish I had a Gary Larsen cartoon to go with that heading and I would have had a photograph if I had belted out of bed fast enough.
The saga of hernextdoor's footpath which was sloping towards the fence, not in line with the other footpaths and definitely not level. I should know, I took great delight in pointing it out to her after the bloody workmen had used my water again for the concrete. They never even turned off the hose between use, just let it run into the gutter.
That was a post last month. The follow up was yesterday when up comes the footpath breaker, the take it away truck and several council workers. I'm in bed with cat enjoying the winter sun coming in the window. The next noise was a chain saw, hmm, says I, lopping the branches from that overhanging stupid lemon scented gum that will cause havoc if it falls. No, they're not.
Let me go back some years. Hernextdoor was into all things eco, save the kangaroos, save the this, save the that then the vegetarian phase that went into the vegan militant phase. I think that's gone by the way.  We endured the lectures for politeness, the rest of the neighbours went along conspicuously spending, we didn't have enough money for spending and all the time hernextdoor was not exactly living in a cardboard box, all mod cons. and an Australian garden including the biggest flaming gumtree ever on our fence line. That's the thing about gums, they moult leaves all year, my trees only in autumn.  After the spa went in, the gum came out or it would have been heading for the stars by now.  Crocodile tears at the loss of an icon then hints about my leaves falling over the fence. 
So along with the gum went the Grandiflora Magnolia but only as far as the nature strip where she was sure it would just gently pass away but it flourished, boy did it flourish.  Beautiful tree, deep green leaves and I alway knew when it was going to be hot, the big cream flowers would bloom overnight.  Not any more, where was green is now a great big empty. Nothing, nada, not even a hole in the ground, just the dug up footpath ready to be fixed.
I'm waiting now for the complaint that my camelias are falling on to her brick paved front courtyard.  I've cut down 3 trees along that fence but the camelia stays although it does need a slight prunning.  I'll miss that Magnolia and so will she. It was so dense with leaves and blooms that it stopped a lot of the north wind dust in summer.  To walk past it was to walk into coolness but there'll be no shade anymore except for my trees.  
I'll get out there and take a photo of the big empty.  But I'd like to take a photo of the possums falling when they realize there's nothing to land in when they fly off the phone wire.

On another note, if you've seen the ads for the new Lipton's fruit, orange and lemon tripod teabags, before you buy, look for where they're made, in RUSSIA and shipped here.  Either buy Dilmah which is fresh from Sri Lanka or Madura fresh from Queensland. (I would but they don't quite have the right Earl Grey flavour)  I could hardly believe what I was seeing but then Woolworths Select 90 second microwave brown rice is made in India and shipped here, buy SunWhite instead. Shut up tree huggers, I know I should be cooking my own brown rice but it takes ages as against 90 seconds and it's a bit hard to nibble at something else in 90 seconds.  

Stating the obvious, it's bloodcurdling cold.

I had to sit at the fire this morning and warm up until I could get in the shower to warm up. The cat went outside and I swear he must have pee'd on the run, turned and was back on the bed before I put his food down.

Firefox updated and my little orange cats are not compatible with the new operating system. Damn, phooey.  I went through so many layouts until I found green leaves, daisies and ladybirds which didn't go with the blue I had with the cats.  So back into Windows themes and now the olive green suits.  Minor irritation but after the weekend, it was enough to bring on loud swearing at a defenceless computer.

Visit to the Home.  I'm glad I'm not there tonight. I don't know what was dished up for lunch but there is going to be a lot of changing of linen tonight if this afternoon's episodes are repeated. It was freezing walking there but the Home seemed to be sitting in the middle of a great ring of clouds and the sun was shining but not warming anything up.  It didn't warm me up but I was home before it rained on me. So the day finishes as it began, I'm freezing and the cat is fed and in front of the fire.

I think I broke something.

The new entertainment unit...with cat.  He likes it, he can lie full length on the top with his head out of the hole in the curtain resting on the window sill. The delivery blokes kindly put the tv on the cabinet but I got to move all the small (but heavy) cupboards out of the way and the dvd player and the video player and the cords and the speakers and the dvds and the side table and the coffee table.

He had fun walking from one thing to another until I managed to drag the damn thing into the hall. I swear the first thing I do when I win Tattslotto is put wheels on everything in this house. I know Pine plantations are unkind to little animals but better than chopping down old growth trees just to make an entertainment unit. I worried that I wouldn't like it, having bought it on line from Early Settler but I don't even notice it. That's the mark of a good buy, feels like it's been there forever.
The BOH came that night and hooked everything up even the video player but I haven't untangled the speakers yet and I don't really need surround sound so maybe just hook up the large speaker.

So now I have a remote, three remotes which are labelled which is terrific during a political campaign, annoy me and you're gone. I paid for half the tv, mum paid the other half for my birthday and the unit I'll pay for out of the fixed deposit at the end of August.

That was the plan but after reading through my 2006/07 journal, I think I will leave it as payment for services rendered.  I needed some legal stuff that I knew was somewhere in the big journals I keep, as distinct from the day to day diary, but that saying about never looking back, so true, so very true.
I am amazed that we did not shove a pillow over mother's head. What a bitch she was and given that in 2006 we still had three years of horror to go before she went into the nursing home, I amazed that we survived. My sister gambled and drank, I ate and the BOH banged the dents out of cars with a large hammer. We scratched for money.  I was pretty low last week and thought that even money wouldn't make me happy, wrong.  2006 I didn't have anything and I was miserable. I suppose I blogged the crazy funny bits and that kept me sane but she was outrageous. Most of it was pain affecting her mind, not having proper food although the freezer was always full and eventually we had Meals on Wheels delivered. I can't tell you everything, I've been trying to let it flow away all weekend but she rang last night and I almost threw the phone across the room.  The three of us stuck together through it all until she went to the Home.
I am not going to ever open the 2008/9 journals, not while she's still with us.

Now for real Sprites.

I blogged about Sprite lightning recently which was a fluke photo taken from ground level during a thunderstorm, now here's the real deal taken from the National Centre for Atmospheric Research's Gulfstream-V plane.
Jason Ahrns got up close and personal with these red sprites over Red Willow County in Nebraska and told a reporter:

"I've seen sprites with my naked eye for the first time, and they're really tall! I've seen pictures and watched them in video monitors during the research campaigns, and in my mind I knew they were on the order of 50km from top to bottom, but knowing it and seeing it for yourself are two different things," he told us via email. "When we're flying 120 miles away from the storm and the sprite is still tall enough to fill my vision from top to bottom, that leaves an impression!"

Sprites can reach 50 to 60 miles into space and penetrate downward into the middle of the stratosphere (25-20 miles high) with jellyfish-like tendrils and they last only seconds so good for Jason Ahrns who not only photographed these sprites but managed to videotape them as well.

He also has a blog called Leaflitter with photographs if you're interested.

An irritating week.

I can't believe I'm 11 days older than that last cake.  No wonder I'm irritable.
My life seems to have been turned upside down, I'm not sleeping until late, that is 1 a.m. late and not getting up early. Three days visiting the Home and I had to go out on Friday of the pouring rain and freezing cold wind that was so strong I could barely close my big gate. Mother did appreciate the two new nightdresses and the hot party pies with sauce.  Friday lunches are never the best down there.

Politics are irritating me no end. Please let's get it done and then on with the revolution. I refuse the watch the debate going on tonight. Irritation levels would rival Chernobyl melt down especially since favourite programme will now be on late.  Another irritation, I love 'Grimm', the new season started with two episodes which then went back to one at 11 p.m.  And this after two stinkers of reality shows that should be dumped in the nearest bin.  Also another irritation, shows running over and football shows are the masters of this. Any show I want to see which comes after football, add anything from a half to an hour later. And then to add injury to the already infected irritation, put on an encore of the revolting show you refused to watch the first time.

My sister is irritating me and has done for quite some time.  Her taste in men hasn't improved since the ghastly drug addled twit she brought home at 17. She was going to save him from himself. And so on from there. Irritation is the reason I buy her birthday presents in January for the September date because by then I'm ready to plant her one right between the eyes. I fixed that irritation by buying Mother another 6 dvds.

Cold callers on my phone are irritating.  Three times in the past 5 weeks I've had the Telstra call that tries to scam my pension number out of me. Unfortunately for them I learned my lesson from last year.  Same old scam about how much I'm going to save on phone calls and they'll just hand me over to their supervisor and that's when I let loose with the abuse.  Another pizza parlor has opened nearby with close to my phone number. A call for a pizza late at night has me dribbling with desire, damn phone numbers.  Another new one is for funeral plans. Now I'm used to that during the day or late at night on tv but phone calls?  I tell them I'm not having one, if I'm not going to be there to eat cake, no-one else is.  Then there's the solar heating mob, charities asking for money and the one I love most, wanting to speak to the head of the house for an outstanding opportunity to increase the wealth of the family.   Yes, I should renew the stop on these calls but it's so much fun to abuse the call centre especially when they take the trouble to announce that they are calling from Melbourne.

Another very minor irritation which really isn't an irritation since families remember birthdays and happy days but death days fade away with time.  I thought maybe one would remember my boy died 18 years ago yesterday but perhaps it's better they didn't.  A new baby in the family makes for looking forward and not looking back.  And the cat hugged me when I cried anyway.

The last cake.

Very appropriate.  Today, officially I am old, the body acknowledges this, the mind is 20 years behind.  I'm still having strange dreams. Last night it was watching my six foot brick fence fall down. This means that I have to break out of my fenced in life or I stop watching Renovation Man.
The cat celebrated by waking up and wanting the fire on and door open at 7 a.m. I celebrated by going back to bed and waking up at 10 a.m. I'm still not showered and dressed, I'm aiming to be by late this afternoon.
BOH rang and wanted to know what I'd like for a present. Refrained from saying "your crap out of the house." and went for a Magnum ice-cream when he comes to play with the car and the cat.
Mother rang and very happy with her new earphones. 4 years ago she was having trouble getting the hang of opening a can of cat food and now, she's playing a movie or CD on the portable viewer and reading books on her iPad. The earphones are to cut down the manic noise of her roomies. The new one only last two weeks, she went up the stairway to heaven at 5 this morning.  Her granddaughter told me yesterday that she'd loved the Home and was having the best time in ages. Now that's the way to go out, having a good time.
My sister rang, that's it.
My granddaughters will catch up around September, maybe.
And after buying mother a cake, earphones, dvds and spending the afternoon with her, I forgot to buy a cake for me. Old. Memory loss.

And a bouquet of cupcakes to Ann O'Dyne for my birthday post at which I still can't comment at. Stupid blogger.

Hearts from the Queen.

 I must say I haven't enjoyed a birthday countdown as much as I have this year. Now we're getting to the end, I'm going for broke.  A four tier fondant iced, with hearts and spots, I love it all. How about my favourite fruit cake for the bottom layer, then a nice tart flourless orange layer, chocolate and cherries for the next and the top, coffee and mousse layers.

Or just three layers but white chocolate coated strawberries.  This is actually supposed to be a Valentine's Day cake, shame I don't have a Valentine.  Don't do what I did and make this desktop wallpaper, it looks even better when big. I swear I didn't stop drooling for an hour.  I bet it's chocolate mud cake again. I don't understand the appeal of chocolate mud cake but the top could be white chocolate mud cake which is slightly less objectionable. White chocolate mud cake with a top layer of strawberry mousse and sponge? Any takers?

You know this is what I'm going to end up with, one lousy cupcake.

Now about that ice-cream cake.

I should not have mentioned ice-cream cake or gone looking for images of ice-cream cake. I liked the one up there so much I looked up the recipe. That's vanilla cake on the bottom and chocolate cherry ice-cream on top. The frosting is frosting, the American kind, very sweet. It was kind of them to give the calories and carbs in a single slice, 51 grams of carbohydrate. It must be the frosting. I would rather have marshmallow over the whole, more ice-cream and not so much cake and I'm sure that would take down the carbs.

I couldn't find a recipe for this but I think it looks like a trifle ice-cream cake.  So a custard and fruit type ice-cream set in a layer of jam sponge, make that thick jam sponge soaked in plonk. It would be nice done in individual dishes, decorated with swirls of whipped cream but that's just me, not being a sharer I could have it all.

But for the Princess in me, aaaww, a pink ice-cream Cinderella carriage with sugar mice. I love it.

Seven cakes to go.

You all knew I'd put one in somewhere. Nothing better than a 3 tier Harry Potter cake unless it's a 4 tier Harry Potter cake. Still love Harry? In the words of dear Snape, always.

I'm not going out for my birthday dinner. I fiddled the finances a smidgeon and I'm having lovely lady come in to vac the entire house at 9 a.m. Friday morning.  All the junk on the floor that I haven't put away will go on chairs, lounge, bed or the sewing room which is the only room I've vac'd, that and the hallway when I moved his things there and my things back here.

It's a birthday present much more practical than food and I didn't think twice about doing it. I might have paused a second if ice-cream cake had been involved but only for a second. I have a big Hoover and it's been doing sterling service since 1989 and it's still sucking up cement dust from the slab underneath the carpet and it was a wonder with cat fur and dog fur and the ex's ability to walk across white marble and still pick up mud. She's only doing the vac, I can do the rest but the old hands and shoulders just wont co-operate in the shifting and moving. It took me 15 minutes to put the extension hose on it yesterday and my fingers hurt all day. Doc Marvin tells me that some cholesterol medication can irritate the muscles and make them sore. I'll go along with that.

By the time I turned the corner to the Home yesterday, I was frozen. The wind hit me dead centre in the chest and I swear I could have drilled out an ice core. I even took Ma's blankie off her and put it on me until I thawed out.  I knew we'd pay for those warm days we had.

Now I have to shift the sewing machine out of the study and put it in the sewing room because there's a monster load of shifting and moving to even see the floor in here. At least I remembered to put the bins out tonight and the neighbours won't be sneaking anything in either bin.

Chocolate is, genius creates.

Thank you to Helen for this link  to Gerhard Petzl, a chocolate artist who does things like this:

Decorated chocolate shoes.  What genius.

And glorious sugar creations like this gingerbread mansion.

I will never look at a dodgy gingerbread house without seeing this

wonderful piece.

Hit his website and see what he does with chocolate painting on lovely bodies.