Another gem.

A real gem, honest.  This little diamond encrusted brooch is actually an Alaskan Wood Frog which becomes an froggy ice block during the freezing winters.  It stops breathing and its heart stops beating.  When spring arrives the frogsicle thaws out and goes on its way.  I love it.  Reminds me of mother who keeps coming back to life but without the cuteness factor.

Phobias

Chairs are not a phobia with me unless you count having to leave them on the side of the road during hard rubbish collection and this is a brilliant idea for two old chairs.  I also hate to admit that Andrew was right when I last mentioned grabbing a chair from the hard rubbish, I have the paint and the chair but the two haven't met yet.  It's a long engagement going on 3 years now but one day, they will meet.

But, phobias, I haz a few starting with making a list of the phobias I have since it's scary how many things frighten the crap out of me.  Right up in the top ten of frighteners are big shiny needles.  Now I use needles all the time, in fact after this I'm going to the stove with an enormous darning needle to clear out the gas jets from the cleaning Jiff I used yesterday before the damn gas decides to do it for me.

I am talking about syringe type needles.  The type that is going to shoot Cortisone into the bones of my right foot to stop the flare up of arthritis that's causing the current episode of pain.  I have a phobia of people touching my feet, actually anything touching my feet that lives in seawater, especially something I can't see.  I'm rambling, I don't have a phobia about that.  For Cortisone to work it has to go into the exact right spot, the very first time, see that there, FIRST time.  It says to me that they intend to keep trying until I can't feel the original pain because of the needle x-times pain.

If it was Doc Marvin, it might be okay.  I would keep any accidental kicking far away from the crown jewells but I'm having to go to a stranger.  A stranger will be jabbing needles into my foot..phobia.
I might manage if they go in from the top but any needles going underneath is going to need me biting down hard on something or someone.  I've had needles in the feet before but I didn't know until I was already flat out and hadn't thought to ask where they were putting the radioactive dye and would have run for the door if they'd told me it was going between the toes and into the ankles. I have to say it was fun watching the snake like wanderings of my leg veins but between the toes, oh damn feck it hurt.

I don't have to make up my mind until the pain becomes too much so that I can't walk which is crazy because it doesn't hurt when I walk just when I stop. And believe me I cannot walk and eat ice-cream at the same time especially not on the treadmill, I have to hang on with two hands.  As a child I did have the ability to shove an icy-pole in my mouth and leave it there until it was long gone but like a lot of childish wonders, that too has long gone.   Not so my phobias. It could only be worse if they said they'd do it under water and I wouldn't see it.

Our Moon.

 The Galleries of eclipse photos are out and I think these are the best three I've seen so far.  Above is the International Space Station crossing the partial eclipse.  Copyright Thierry Legault.
 

This one of the full eclipse was taken mid-air by Paul Homback.

This one is of the famous 'diamond ring' just before the sun completely disappears.  The same diamond shine appears on the opposite side as the moon moves on.


Yesterday marked an Equinox and a new Moon.  The new Moon was at Perigee, the closest point of its orbit around Earth and marks the largest new Moon of 2015.  Add that to the Solar Eclipse and we didn't miss one bit of Moon Madness.  This particular madness would have started at least 3 days before and will end, hopefully, about 3 days into next week.

Did it affect me?  No, if I discount the vivid dreams sailing through my sleeping mind like a movie marathon, full colour and 3D which I remembered fully up to 2 minutes after waking.
Through the day, images would flash into my mind and disappear.  My stars said to be careful of machinery so I spoke respectfully to the computer and didn't slam the lid on the washing machine when the clothes tangled.  

Now the days start getting longer and the ghastly football rubbish begins.
                   

How to give a cat a pill.

1. Pick up cat and gently hold in recumbent position between your upper left arm and body, its head grasped by your left hand.  Position left forefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks whilst holding pill in right hand.  As cat opens mouth, pop the pill in.  Allow the cat to close mouth and swallow.

2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa.  Hold cat more firmly under left arm and try the same procedure again.

3. Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw soggy pill away.

4. Take new pill from foil wrap.  Cradle the cat firmly in left arm, this time with head toward forearm as if holding a baby.  Hold rear paws and tail tightly with the left hand.  Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with forefinger.  Hold mouth shut for count of ten.

5. Staunch bleeding and apply band-aid to deep scratches on left hand, retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe.  Call wife in from garden and ask her to assist.  Assure her again about not being necessary to take the cat to vet for such a simple procedure.

6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between your knees.  Hold front and rear paws firmly.  Ignore low menacing growls from cat.  Get wife to hold cat's head firmly with one hand. Insert ruler into cat's mouth, drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.

7. Apply more band-aids and retrieve cat from curtain rail.  Get another pill from foil wrap. Make mental note to buy new ruler and repair curtains.  Sweep shattered Royal Doulton figurines from hearth, console distraught wife and consult household insurance policy for claim information.

8. Wrap cat in large thick towel and get wife to lay on top of cat so its head is just visible below her armpit.  Put pill in end of drinking straw.  Force cat's mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.

9. Check label on box to make sure pill is not harmful to humans.  Drink a large glass of water to get rid of the vile taste.  Apply band-aids to wife's upper arm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.  Apologize again to wife for swearing and assure her you do like cats.

10. Retrieve cat from neighbour's shed.  Get another pill.  Place cat in cupboard and close door on neck to leave its head showing.  Keep a firm pressure on the cupboard door with knee, force cat's mouth open with handle of tablespoon.  Get wife to flick pill down cat's throat with elastic band.

11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put door back on hinges.  Apply cold compress to gash on chest and check medical receipts for date of last tetnus shot.  Throw out ripped and bloodied T-shirt and get new one from bedroom.  Apologize to sobbing wife for totally unwarranted remarks about women and plead temporary insanity caused by cat's violent attack.

12. Ring fire brigade and retrieve cat from tree across the road.  Apologize to neighbour who crashed his car into fence whilst avoiding cat.  Take last pill from foil wrap.

13. Tie cat's paws, bind tightly to dining room table leg.  Find heavy duty pruning gloves, force cat's mouth open with small spanner. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet steak.  Hold cat's head back and keeping spanner in mouth, pour half a carton of milk to wash pill down.

14. Try to calm wife, agree to see marriage counselor and get her to drive you to emergency room at local hospital.  Sit quietly whilst doctor stitches forearm and removes pill fragments from your right eye.  Stop by furniture store on the way home to order new table and book carpet in for steam cleaning.

15. Report cat's disappearance to RSPCA and ask them to arrange a new home for cat if found. Ring wife at her mother's to ask how she is.  Check freezer for tv dinners.


I did have a cat who took a pill quite calmly and waited until midnight for revenge, I have the scars to prove it.

Inventions of note

Isn't this just adorable.  It's a quick Ferret muzzle for taking the ferret for walkies and it came to me that I must post it the minute I switched on the news this morning and the "Font of all Wisdom" was saying how he was going to save all of us (again).  Except for old people who are draining the land of money because we have a pension, a pension that we paid our taxes for and in an age when women were never considered in a superannuation scheme so most of us don't have that.  So you can see why the quick Ferret muzzle immediately sprang to mind. We'd still recognize him, the ears, you know.  The PM sort of lends himself to this, might even improve him but when I tried to picture Smokin' Joe in one I realized there'd have to be a bit of tinkering with the design.
 

And, and, and, it has accessories.  A Ferret activity tunnel no less.  He might have a bit of trouble because he has to go straight so the cross Ferret tunnel would be the go.  If it doesn't amuse him, at least it will stop him running in circles.  And the PA should look great toting the carry bag after she sticks a few shiny mirrors on the front so she can flash blind curious journos.

There you are, my contribution to the welfare of the nation, who says fat old pensioners are useless.

Christmas and birthday in July

This is an essence bottle by Gil Roberts and is called Oz. You'll find more of his work here.
The bottle is made from Russian smokey quartz accented with opal and edwards black jade.
The dipper is l8k yellow gold with opals and black jade.
It's sitting on a base of black jade, chrysoprase opal and black jade laminate.

I certainly will accept this for my birthday and Christmas in July, start saving.  I don't know how much it costs but if I have to ask, you can't afford it and I don't want you to stop trying to buy it for me. 

And on and on it goes.

 

This made me smile, I love Pussy Willow.

Was out at sparrow's fart this morning, no food, cat wouldn't come in so I had to leave the door ajar but no-one robbed me so I'm still destitute.  Remembered what the bottle on the flusher was for and a needle in each arm later I was out of the Pathologist's and heading for the Radiologist's.  Of course, Madam, you can twist my foot in three directions to get a good x-ray, I'll scream later.  I then headed for food, a quiet place with cake.  Since I was already out I thought I might as well go and see mother.  She must be okay, she's giving orders to all and sundry.  She's expecting me again this week but bad luck, I don't feel like going.  Her birthday on Saturday will be enough.  I'm not cruel, I'm pissed off with someone who whines on about how depressed she is then whines that she has too many visitors and she needs only me.  I have bits falling off me, I am in pain, I'm fucking depressed and I have three more visits to various doctors but I mustn't forgot to visit the Home.

I am sick of my mother!

Isn't this great for an elderly indoor cat.  The Bear would love one that jutted right out of the kitchen into the apple tree.  The birds wouldn't but would probably catch on and stand on the top and make faces at him.

You can see from the size of this bead that it's designed to go on a Pandora bracelet.  I just wouldn't have the control or the patience to manipulate the various coloured glass to make it.  My hands are barely able to open a chocolate box without injury.

This is also a bead, a focal bead, the centre of a necklace.  We have the moon, stars and a swirling sea and more than a truck load of talent to do this.

 

 

 

 

Mother is sick again and I don't care a fig.  I was down there for three hours yesterday but she waited until a friend of our came in after I left to go into a decline.  The friend is more sympathetic than I am these days.  Mother said she hid how ill she was from me because she didn't want to worry me, what BS.  As though I haven't spent the last 10 years just judging how ill she is by just watching her but she had all her minions running around after her and ringing Doc Marvin. I was rung by the friend last night and had a report which was nothing like the phone call from mother this morning.  I am worried for the friend since she has become a target of a nasty at the Home who made comments up the line that she does so much for mother that her daughters must feel pushed out.  Bwahahahahaha!
I'm constantly telling her not to fall for the old bat's manipulations but she's kind and says she doesn't mind.  Sister is popping in this afternoon for her usual 5 minutes but I've warned her so she's going to try and get hold of the nursing notes and see what the medication is.  It's not infection, it's just the usual heart not functioning enough to pump out fluid collecting in the lungs.  But believe me she'll hang on until next Saturday when she turns 85.  That could have been my breaking point yesterday when she  said something about her birthday and added that it was only 5 years then until she was 90 and she might make it yet. 
 That's serious, look how fast this year is going, it's March tomorrow.

Awesome

BEST ANTI-TERRORIST SQUAD AVAILABLE.

Back soon, going to the Doc's. I'm sick of feeling sick.

Probably just my mother draining off my life energy every full moon.

Size 12 concrete blocks

I saw this and immediately thought of River and Angel always trying to sit on the keyboard.  Mind you knowing cats, they would expect you to put the laptop on the cat bed and let them have the desk.

I am hurting again.  I folded up all the washing yesterday, bent down to pick up the washing basket while turning around, you know like chewing gum and walking at the same time.  Perhaps I just had a hangover from watching Darcy Bussell's ballet programme on SBS and thought I was still graceful in my largeness.  Graceful, maybe, ballerina balance, zero.  I went down like a sack of spuds.

Unlike last time when I'd waxed my feet and slid across the carpet to land gently flat on my back, this time I knew if I tried to get up I'd really hurt myself.  Bite the bullet and ring 000 again, oh the embarrassment, again.  First slide on bum to the folded clothes and put a dress on since I'd planned to shower and wash my hair so was still in night dress at 4 in the afternoon.

They rang back 3 times to see how I was because I said it wasn't urgent, I was an experienced sitter on all surfaces and wasn't harmed.  Last time they brought just the little pump up cushion, this time it looked like a life raft off the Costa Concordia. I slide over and the ginormous thing does its job and I feel like Titanic rising out of the depth in Clive Cussler's book.  I stood up and walked to my chair, no problem. The ambo said it was for people much bigger than me, thank you, says I. 

Of course I fell on the side where I'd ripped off the toenail last week, where I'd scratched the leg last week and now had carpet burn down the thigh. They asked if I was dizzy when I fell.  No, I just need another two sizes on my feet to balance the arse and learn to do one thing at a time, like turn first, then bend to pick up.  The BOH when he finds out will be round here to put a seat belt on the treadmill.  I walk okay on that, I'm holding on.  Walking to the shop this morning was sedate and close to every fence so I figured that was my exercise for today.  That and keeping two steps ahead of the breakdown that's chasing me. 

I'm my own Valentine

Aurora on Ice 
 Image Credit & Copyright:  Stéphane Vetter (Nuits sacrées)
 
 This is a fisheye view of ice and sky photographed at Jokulsarlon Beach, southeast Iceland on February 1st.
The 22 degree lunar halo was created by ice crystals in high, thin clouds refracting the light from an almost full moon.  The aurora was triggered by the earth's magnetosphere and wind from a coronal hole near the Sun's south pole.  Jupiter is visible to the left, just beyond the lunar halo.

I want a glass paperweight exactly like this, it looks fantastic.  Life has interrupted my vow to blog more regularly, like cleaning up still.  I've finished 6 months of ironing but left the board up to press the seams of two new nightdresses.  Bad move, staggered out in the dark to open the back door for the cat and kicked my little toenail completely off.  I didn't notice the hanging off nail until I woke up two hours later but fortunately I was sleeping with my feet out of the covers and didn't bleed on the sheets.  Later on I scratched my leg on the sharp handle of the washing basket and that bled everywhere.

Then there was the incident with the black spider crawling out of my dress on the bed.  That's creepy not knowing if it was in the bed, in the dress I had just taken off or was just wandering around. It didn't help that the dress was mainly black and I just noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. It ran under the bed but I sprayed it on the run.

And last night, wow, last night.  Thunderstorms don't bother me, I like watching the lightning but I swear it was right above my house last night.  Three huge crashes that nearly gave me a heart attack, sent the Bear's eyes spinning and rattled the windows.  Now I have lemons all over the backyard but I can't go out yet because the Lorikeets are in the apple tree for breakfast.  I like the dumbness of a white cat the size of a polar bear hiding in bright green grass waiting for a bird to land near him.  The Lorikeets just move higher up and spit apple at him. 

I've filled two bags for collection and have started on a third but I so object to being told what I can and cannot fill the bags with. I'm very bad and fill black garbage bags and tie the collection bag around the top. If it was the charity the bags were going to I'm be more inclined to put in the good stuff but all of this goes to the big collecting companies and they are making a profit so let them sort through.

My $2 Emporium is closing. I can't believe it, 20 years I've been buying great stuff in there and they're going.  Southland probably has put up the rent 200%.  I must get back there next week and buy some good plain glasses for my painting and look for a good vase or two. Glass pebbles and aluminium pans and plastic bags for beads. I loved that shop.  I hate change.

Do it Yourself.

I just had to share this with the gardeners who blog and that wouldn't be me.  Mosaic stepping stones done the easy way.  Put the broken pieces of your trinkets and crockery face down in a cake pan and put the cement over the top and let set.  No, I don't know how much cement or how to get it out of the cake pan but when I was mulling this over, I happened to walk past a $2 emporium and they had aluminium turkey  roasting pans and not expensive.  Brilliant, let the step set and just rip the pan to shreds. Smaller steps for a border around a little garden could be done the same way. I have the crockery, I don't have the cement but one day my garden will dazzle. Well, part of it will.  The water meter is disappearing into the ground so a little border around that is a good starter.  The glass pebbles can be bought from the $2 shop in different sizes.

Going well on the treadmill. That old saying about a watched pot never boils is also true about the timer on a treadmill.  I find that if I close my eyes and go into a slightly meditative state, not too much I have to mind the feet - lift, stride, fast and repeat - then open the eyes sometimes I've been walking for 10 minutes and the green buttons have gone around a full lap.  Burnt up 28 calories this morning.
The only problem is that walking around Southland is like walking without a safety net and my balance is still crapola. Thank you to nice door man at JBHiFi who grabbed my arm when I tripped and nearly ended up in a '50 shades of grey' embrace when I turned to thank him and tripped again. Some days I shouldn't be let outside at all.

The Bear is sitting on the treadmill beside me, 4.23 is food time.  I am resisting the temptation to turn on the machine, really resisiting.  Damn he read my mind and is sitting by the door.

February is the new "New Year"

It's taken all of January to kick in and I'm still not right.  Mother is back to normal, manipulating anyone she can con.  Not me, I do what's necessary and no more.  My sister is consistant, a half hour visit and she leaves at speed. She's enjoying retirement, meditation classes, painting classes and lunching. Apparently I don't retire until mother does. I can barely look at her or speak on days I go down before I'm ready.  I just can't get past that week of dying when she decided not to, right on the top step of that Highway to Heaven.  She's now planning her 85th birthday, 6th of March, I'm planning on opening a vein.

Since I decided I wouldn't go there if I didn't want to, I've been throwing out piles of papers going back to 2006, science marches on. I've found things I thought I'd lost, writings I really wanted to keep and my new will which I could have sworn was put away with my other important papers.  I've ripped up love letters, where did I find such boring blokes but every now and then I still find traces of the ex. That's really exciting, do I rip it up or burn it?  I've just found another load of papers in the study and then there are the bank statements and 2013 accounts to be done to death. 150 craft magazines are now just a few pages in three folders, craft, jewellery and Christmas. Articles from New Scientist also whittled down to really interesting blog fodder in another small folder.  Christmas cards and rubbish brought from the Home when I thought she was going added to the recycle bin. I deny everything when she says "do you know what happened......"  The recycle bin has been so heavy some weeks that I've nearly overturned me taking it out.  The red bin hasn't been much better. I'm sure it's totally illegal to shove a toaster oven in it but I did.

I'm typing here in the company of my treadmill which is being used every day.  I'm up to 7 minutes twice a day, a little over 200 metres and burning off 20 calories in the process.  I'm not so much interested in losing weight as building up the muscles in my legs to offset the nerve damage in my feet where my balance is losing the battle.
The coffee table arrived from my sister and it is big big big.  I haven't decided where to move it, not until I finish vac'ing the rest of the carpet.  It's amusing the Bear to sit underneath it and look up through the glass.  It has one drawback, it smells of cigarette smoke, it's in the wood so I'm looking for orange oil furniture polish to see if that might fix it.
The chair is half a success.  The cushion is not working out, too hard, says Redylocks.  So we've decided to go for a half feather, half foam softer one.  There's no doubt ye olde fat bum would have crushed it down in time but it was putting pressure on my spine.  On the other hand, it is so nice to just stand up and walk away instead of these new lounge chairs that need a built in crane.  The Bear likes it.

And and and I've finished the ironing begun 6 months ago.  Right down to the sheets from mother's house that was sold 5 years ago.  Lovely thick Egyptian cotton which will be made into pillow cases in the near future.  It's the type of cotton that wears into softness the longer you use it.  I also got away with the Actil (made in Australia!)single sheet set, very pretty and she didn't use it because it was cold, good, no memories.  It will make a lovely night dress and frilled pillow cases. My sister didn't miss out, she grabbed all the pillow cases and the duck down doona at the same time.

Now I have a choice for the rest of the afternoon, finish off a present for mother to give next week and must be finished by tomorrow or, courtesy of Miss O'Dyne, finish reading the marvellous book about Georges the elegant department store which was trashed by Sydney's David Jones after they bought it.  Well, Sydney, what could you expect!  I'll just take another pill and make a decision.

Not another happening, please.

Okay, the hose held, just so the washing is done for the moment.

I decided to go to bed early and pass out.

The usual routine of teeth cleaning is usually routine but not when I bend down to fill the glass and I'm face to face with a freeking skink.

I'm beginning to believe that an alternate universe is leaking into my house.

How would a skink get into my bathroom? I haven't been able to open the window since the screen fell off outside. 

Perhaps it was friends with the spider swinging in the air from the lounge room down light.  I watched him climb up into the light well and I told him not to do it, very quietly, but he did. Fried himself like the Greek kid with the wax wings and will be swinging for eternity.

I barely survive life, wild life could do me in.

I'm still here.

I've really started the year well by writing in my diary a day behind myself or a day in front of what I did. It's like Daylight saving, I can never figure that out either.
Mother is still with us.
I haven't pushed the on button for the treadmill.
I did vac 4 square feet of the carpet but only for the newly upholstered chair.
The chair looks great but it's killing me. The cushion is heavy duty so I feel as though I'm a pimple on a pumpkin but given that I was sitting on a broken spring practically on the floor then I should stop whinging.
The cat loves the chair because it's high enough for him to see out of the window.
South East Water had to repair a water main in the street yesterday but forgot to tell us.
Today the laundry is awash because the pressure of returning water did in the hose for the washing machine.  I have washing to do and a bucket under the tap hose which I've tightened as much as possible. Wish me luck.
The BOH has just had his fourth plaster put on his arm.  The cracks were spreading but a scan showed he didn't need surgery.  Craperlink have been such a help, sending a letter on the 31st telling him to reply by the 31st which didn't arrive until January.
My sister has bought a new ritzy couch with a recliner at one end and a chaise at the other.
It's good news for me, I get her coffee table with the leadlight glass inserts and the toe breaking legs.
Mother is still with us.
Damn!

Today is Sunday, I must remember tomorrow is Monday

I've completely lost track of days and time but that's what diaries are for except if they come from England.  Now I have to go through and mark all the Australian holidays and unlike my old diary doesn't have the moon phases or times in cities all over the world.  I've been using the same brand of diary for 12 years and I hate change but I managed to buy one that has plenty of writing room. Now to cover it because I hate writing in a naked book and I always put extra fabric on the back for the pens so I never have to look for them.

I did not have one iota of guilt for staying home on Christmas Day.  I rang mother and my duty was done.  It felt so great not having to get up, shower, dress, do hair, grab presents and get out the door.  I almost broke my fingers getting the plastic cork out of the 'champagne' only to find it was too vile to drink and I tipped it down the sink. The BOH didn't make last year's mistake and rang to ask what kind of alcohol would I like and I had four bottles of Black Ice vodka in the fridge. I bought two slices of ham off the bone and sourdough bread for the Christmas sandwich and set everything up within reach and put my feet up. I planned on reading parts of my book and watching episodes of the dvd equally.  That was the plan but the cat foiled part of it by gently withdrawing the ham from the middle of the sandwich. He never eats this kind of meat but there he was, on the carpet, chewing his way through my treat.  It was the only moment in an otherwise pleasant and peaceful day.
Then came the night.  I remembered the days when I'd feel so full I couldn't move but now I looked forward to a mince tart and a cup of coffee and enjoyed it.  Now for a week or so the cat has been tiptoeing down the drive, around the Acer tree and past Vinnie's car (the last in the row of the Arthur Daley car yard I'm hosting) and then making a rush for the front door.  This time I decided to find out what was making him so antsy.  Big mistake.  The drunken bogans 3 doors up let off illegal fireworks and they didn't have enough power to go up but went sideways down the street past my place. The explosions were explosive even if the stars looked good going fastly past me.  The cat took off and I went for the cat, right into the orb web he'd been avoiding all week.  Man, I have no idea where that spider ended up but the way I threw it out of my hair, he's probably still in orbit. I backtracked and just put on all the outside lights and opened the doors and stupid came in about 15 minutes later with his eyes still spinning.
And for all the cat lovers who think I should have gone up and had words with the idiots, forget it.  Never go near drunks or explosives especially if they are in charge of the explosives. It was re-inforced yesterday when I saw one of them, built like a brick outhouse wearing torn denim and a haircut I last saw on Travis Frimmel in Vikings.

No guilt Boxing Day as mother had accidentally turned her phone off completely. I went down to see her the next day.  There had been muffled fireworks a long way off but the cat decided he'd sleep on the bed until the nudge nudge feed me started way too early in the morning.  I staggered out, opened the back door, decided a pee was more needed than his breakfast, came back, grabbed his bowl and a can of food, opened that, washed the bowl and had the feeling I was being watched.  Now remember this was two days after Christmas so no hangover and the bird sitting on my toaster was real.  It watched me, I watched it, stupid sat on the floor still demanding breakfast. A short chase over the counter (not as fast as the mouse) and I had it in a tea towel and out the door.  By this time even the dumbest of cats worked out that something was up but he was late as usual so sat by the back door and watched the dumbest of birds fly off.  I just hoped when I put the toast in that it hadn't pooped in the toaster.

Three more days until New Year's Eve which I hate with a passion.  The cat and I will be in bed early and won't hear any fireworks at all.

Christmas run

I arrived at Southland at 10.22 and left at 11.36 and didn't retrace my footsteps once.  Only forgot the most important thing, two bottles of Black Ice Vodka.
No child was harmed in the gallop through the shopping centre.
Best comment to whining children: "I want, I want, I want," Mother, "Put in on your dream list". Brilliant, see that, not "Christmas list" but dream list so in other words maybe in 20 years you'll get it.
Most embarrassing moment: Woman trying to get her purse into shoulder bag, puts blue chill bag on floor and yells "sit".  Man behind her says, "well trained".  It was sheer coincidence that she was extremely fat and had red hair.
Grab taxi to see mother.  Am pleasantly surprised that I've almost lost the desire to hit her with a brick.
Lunch arrives and I do my usual rant about the food and Bible basher roomie tells me to shut up. I don't tell her to take a cross and stand in line, I'm mellowing.
Every Carer that came in asked if I was having lunch with mother tomorrow. They all got told I was staying home to get pissed. In the absence of vodka, I have Bombay Sapphire gin and Peach Champagne. 
I have a book I've kept for the day and must get out a violent movie to offset the sugar crapola of Christmas carols on every channel.
I bought a sparkly ball for the cat who batted it once and walked off.  Apparently cats of his superior intelligence don't do balls. It's okay, I washed it off and wrapped it for the kid across the street.

For the first Christmas in many years, I will not be looking back.

Try again

I wrote a very long post yesterday which was read by Elephant's Child before it disappeared. I think I pressed a wrong button somewhere and I keep getting error notices from Blogger that also disappear before I can grab the error number to email them about the error.

Nov 30, see mother, very ill.  Home at 6 and phone call, mother much worse, needs us.
I sit from 6 til 8 next morning in a chair designed by the Spanish Inquisition and cripple myself.
She really was dying, nothing fake about that.  Oxygen, morphine, anti-psychotic drugs for the terrors, struggling to breathe, eyes fallen back in her head and red in a pale face.

By the next Friday, she is sitting up in bed after a shower and eating breakfast.

Saturday morning, deep in the only sleep I've had since the last Saturday, the phone rings.  After I calm the heart beat down to non heart attack, I realize it's mother.  She's rung my number but can't remember how to talk into the phone.  I hang up.

Sunday, she is off the morphine by injection, no oxygen, other drugs gone just some ventilin to clear the lungs.

I don't ring, take her calls or go to see her for 4 days.  Something has snapped inside me.  After sitting for so long with half my mind watching her die and the other half preparing a funeral, I've lost it completely.  I cannot get my mind to reboot to normal and I'm dealing with the fact that I am filled with anger that even dying, she managed to manipulate me into being with her because she was frightened.

I refuse to go to the Christmas Party. I go down the next day and she has more visitors than she can handle.  Tells me off for not getting them out.  Afternoon tea is party leftovers, which I don't get so I can't tell her not to eat it.  I do tell her to put the bed up but she's in charge and doesn't so she shoves the chocolate crackle slice into her mouth, doesn't chew it and chokes.  As in purple in the face, no breath choking but manages to bring up most of it with much coughing and more choking.
In between coughs and flying crackles she points to the Kleenex box so I move it closer to her and she looks in and says, "Wash my teeth, there's chocolate on them". The carers are hovering around by this time so I pick up my bags and leave.

Only been back once, yesterday and only because she needed her DVD viewer because she was tired of looking at the ceiling.  I didn't intend to take it, the BOH was going to do it and called in on Monday night to pick it up.  By the way did I have any painkillers, his hand was hurting from using it to break his 8 foot fall onto a concrete floor.  I take one look, tell him to get to the hospital as it was broken, no it's not, he just needs painkillers.  Tuesday night I get a call, do I have anything stronger than the pills I handed out the night before because they don't give out painkillers at the hospital where he is having his arm plastered from wrist to elbow.

My sister asked mother if she saw anyone from the other side when she was dying. By the way mother wasn't dying, just a little ill for a day or so.  Yes, she saw her mother and my father and sister asked why didn't you go with him?  Mother said he told her to go back.  I swear if he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him.

Hold the curtain, the fat lady ain't sung yet

The curtain is almost down

After more farewells than Nellie Melba, Mum has finally taken the stage for the last time.
It is now a matter of days then hours. I stayed all night, Sunday and almost crippled myself in a monster of a chair. So now we are staggering the visits until she drifts into a coma and will be moved to the Lavender Room, with comfy chairs and a soothing fish tank to watch.
Doc Marvin has been wonderful. To clear away the monsters she has been so frightened of, he's ordered special meds and morphine has taken away any pain. 
She has gone downhill in a matter of days and the staff have come in from their days off to say goodbye although not in so many words.
I will be back at some stage.