A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION

This is a ridiculous time of the night/morning to be posting but the Smirnoff Black hasn't had the desired effect and I'm not passed out cold.

I just remembered the sliding door was still open to the world of weird sex stalkers and marauding possums so I went to close it. Really to put the security system in place which happens to be a bloody big iron bar that leaves exactly 5 inches of open space for the cat to wander in and out.

I put my foot in the laundry basket, in the dark. Well doesn't everyone leave a laundry basket in the lounge room? Yes, I did hurt my foot, thanks for asking and I hurt it standing on the packet of pegs in the bottom.

It's been three years since I last bought a packet of pegs and they're good pegs and they cost a lot and I've just remembered I've left dresses hanging on the line. They'll be okay unless the wind picks up then it's 'Hello Oz' or 'My Life Before The Mast' as the Hills takes off.

Now PEGS, the very important question. Does one leave pegs on the line or does one take pegs off the line and put them in a dinky little basket? Personally I believe in tough love and leave the blighters (sorry been watching spitfires on ABC) to the weather. My friend takes them off and pops them into a custom made calico bag with 'PEGS' on the outside in cute fabric.
She probably has pegs inherited from her Grandmother, she takes that much care with them.

The only problem with the 'leave them where they peg' is that I have a line full of dead 'uns. It's a bit like a country fence strung with dead crows. Some skeletons have been there since before plastic ones were invented. I like the continuity of history.

I'm also too lazy to get them off the line.

ELEPHANT IN THE FAMILY

I'm trying to ignore the elephant in the family. NOT my weight although I'm ignoring that as well and that stupid biggest loser is starting again. Hate it with a passion I usually reserve for pavlova with cream and crushed raspberries. Now the elephant which is my Mother and who I have been trying not to post anything about. The elephant which is driving me crazy (which or who? which one, Dodgy?)

She shut the cat between the screen door and the front door. The cat's fat, the space isn't. The Brick Outhouse was not amused when he got home. The cat didn't leave his side all night. In fact she slept on his socks so the only thing that was injured was her sense of smell.

She rang me this morning to ask if she could put her shoes in the dishwasher to clean them. I have become an accomplished mindreader in the last year and told her she couldn't put them in the washing machine either. Can't keep a good elephant down, she washed them in the sink and hung them out to dry on the balustrade. If you ever get the chance to buy shares in Homeped Shoes, grab it. A tank could roll on those shoes, let alone my Mother. Along with cockroaches and John Howard, add Homeypeds to the nuclear war survivors.

She was surprised to find out today was February 1. Her calendar is defective, it hasn't finished January yet.

She's lost her TV guide again so she's going to ring me at 6 every night until she gets a new one on Sunday.

She is not deaf so there's no need to raise my voice to screaming pitch every time she rings.

APOLOGIES FOR THE BORINGNESS

I've been filing the first six months postings of this blog.

I find that quite reasonable as I don't trust anything electronic, look at Beta and that fiasco.

I was a lot happier then and it's a good thing I have a blog or I would have forgotten that.

Mother troubles will disappear happiness in a blink.

Yesterday she said I was overdosing her with pills and when was the funeral.

But if the blog is boring my commentors are not.

I have been blest with the best eccentric mob to be seen in blogland.

I love you all and I think that the blog commentor awards should be initiated in 2007.

MYSTERY SOLVED

I can't remember what I was doing when Camilla was trotted out wearing her first tiara and I missed all the gossip about where it came from but it looked familiar to me. Now at last I've found it.
Queen Mary had it made for the Delhi Durbar when she found out she couldn't take the crown jewells with her to India. It's shown below with a row of very large pear shaped emeralds. Around her neck below a circlet of diamonds, she's wearing the necklace of cabochon emeralds which was given to Diana, who astonished everyone by wearing around her forehead. Below that is a favourite necklace of Queen Elizabeth 11, also emeralds and diamonds with an emerald drop and a marquise diamond cut from the Cullinan.



This is the same tiara but the emeralds have been removed. Unfortunately the photo is not very clear but in the front of the tiara, another two stones cut from the Cullinan diamond are mounted. These were later removed and made into a brooch which the Queen always referred to as 'Granny's chips'. This tiara was last seen on the Queen during her trip to South Africa in 1947. It was on loan from Queen Mary.
As I've said before, wearing a corset had its advantages, one could wear an enormous amount of serious bling before falling on one's face.

ELEGANCE

From 1882, a two piece trained light Taupe silk crepe and satin two-tone dinner gown with golden silk taffeta trim and train.
The intricate folds at the back of the train are kept in place by a series of tapes which the lady's maid would have tied to create the waterfall effect.

This is the underneath of the train showing the stitched dust ruffle since cleaning as we know it didn't exist. The lace ruffle would have been removed as it got dirty but since this was a special occasion gown it would gone straight from the house into the waiting carriage.
It might not be rocket science but look at the construction of the bodice inside. The pleats and darts in place and beautifully lined. It would have been worn over a whaleboned corset. A lady would have also had small silk pads sewn under the arms of the sleeves to soak up any sweat or more delicately, dewy perspiration, to leave the garment unmarked.

No galloping around in this, no showing the girly bits getting out of the carriage a la Brittany or showing the superhold panties a la Katie Cruise. You couldn't help but be a lady wearing this but knowing me I'd have the soup in the ruffles before you could say elegance.

I LOVE A NEW WORD

This is a meteorite and it's covered in regmaglypts, which means thumbprints and I have to be able to work that word into someone's insult at some stage of my life.

Regmaglypts are caused by dynamic air pressure and selective erosion by material melting off the surface of the meteorite on its passage through the atmosphere. A pattern like fingers over wet clay is frequently observed.

SUNDAY NEWS

I only get the paper on Sunday and there’s not much in it for a laugh except today there was a pile of gold.

The AFL has put forward a proposal that membership of a football club would gain migrant points on their citizenship test. Campbell Rose said that for people to integrate into our society they have to understand the fabric of our community and learn the principles of how Australians lived.

How sweet to think that football could do that. Let’s hope that any future citizens haven’t read about the sex romps, marital break-ups, drunken fights, drunk driving charges and hoon behaviour on interstate flights.

There have been reports that David Beckham has been taking lessons to lower the pitch of his squeaky voice and is studying method acting. Sniggers, loud guffaws and oh, stop my sides are hurting. Good luck to the squirrel hiding inside the Beckham suit.

One in five marriages and relationship breakdowns are being caused by internet sex and affairs. Relationships can develop more quickly due to lowered inhibitions, absent physical cues and details, and the ease of exchanging information.

So I’m on the net telling some bloke that I’m 5 foot 11 inches tall, natural red hair (okay that one’s true) boobs that would put Pamela Anderson to shame but the rest of me looks like Elle and I’ve got the sexual appetite of Alexis Carrington and then I’m going to believe the description the bloke gives me. It pains me to say so but some women are dumb enough to do this.

Good news though, with some Melbourne councils backing same-sex unions. The Melbourne Council is establishing a relationship register to allow gay and lesbian couples to publicly declare their partnerships with town hall ceremonies. Australian Family Association’s Angela Conway said the gay unions plans were particularly annoying, much like her Christian good self. I expected an outburst from Bill Muehlenberg but he was on another page having a go at Muslim students.

La Trobe University has male and female washrooms for muslims only. This is so they can do their ritual washing before prayers as in, washing feet. Something they would do in the other washrooms, using the sinks which led to complaints by non-muslim students. It’s a service provided at most other universities in line with providing chaplains from the major Christian denominations and a Christian Chapel. Very sensible, so shut up Bill, you should be happy that any university student believes in God at all.

A WOMAN OF SCIENCE

If anyone thinks of deep ocean explorers, the name Robert Ballard immediately comes to mind because of his discovery of the Titanic. (an accident, he was really on a secret mission to find another country's downed submarine).

Dr. Sylvia Earle received her Bachelor of Science degree in 1955 at Florida State University, followed by her Master's degree in botany in 1956 at Duke University. She won scholarships and supported herself by working in college laboratories. Her Master's dissertation was a detailed study of algae in the Gulf of Mexico. She has collected more than 20,000 samples and continues to do so. Her collection shows the changes in algae as their habitat has changed over a period of fifty years.

She married after completing her Master's but still continued her research work on scientific expeditions round the world. She had to balance family and work even descending 100 feet below the sea in the submersible Deep Diver when she was four months pregnant. In later years some of her children worked with her at her company, Deep Ocean Engineering.

In 1966 she received her PhD from Duke University. Her dissertation "Phaeophyta of the Eastern Gulf of Mexico" was unique in being a long and detailed first-hand study of aquatic plant life as she was one of the first researchers to use SCUBA gear to aid in her work. In 1981 Dr. Earle and her former husband, Graham Hawkes, a British-born engineer recognised the limitations of scuba diving. They founded Deep Ocean Technology, Inc. and Deep Ocean Engineering, Inc. They designed and built a submersible called Deep Rover which is still operating today.

In 1970 she led the first team of women to participate in the Tektite project. The scientists lived for weeks at a time in an enclosed habitat fifty feet down on the ocean floor just off the Virgin Islands. This all women group was known as Tektite 11 because to quote Dr. Earle, "The people in charge just couldn't cope with the idea of men and women living together underwater."

After this expedition Dr. Earle went to the Galapagos Islands, the waters off Panama, China, Bahamas and the Indian Ocean. It was in the 1970s when she began to collaborate with undersea photographer, Al Giddings. The record of their voyages following the sperm whales from Hawaii, New Zealand, Australia, Sth Africa, Bermuda and Alaska became the documentary film, "Gentle Giants of the Pacific".


The image above is a JIM suit, a pressurised one-atmosphere armoured suit. Sylvia Earle was carried by a submersible down to a depth of 1,250 feet in the ocean off the island of Oahu. In a suit like this she walked across the ocean floor at a depth where no-one had ever been before. The only thing connecting her to the submersible was a communication line.

She's an expert on the ecological impact of oil spills, leading research trips to report on the burning of the Kuwaiti oil fields during the Gulf War. She also advised on oil spills from the Exxon Valdez and Mega Borg.

In 1990 she was the first woman to serve as chief scientist of the National Oceanographic and Atmosperic Administration. Time magazine named her their first "Hero for the Planet" in 1998.
She's explorer-in-residence at the National Geographic Society. She regards the oceans an an important and essential environmental habitat and would like to see changes implemented especially for deep ocean exploration. Of the world's five deep-sea manned submersibles, those that dive to 20,000 feet or more, the US has only one. Her company is working on one to reach 36,000 feet. She influenced the Clinton administration's decision to double the US National Marine Sanctuaries budget. She is still continuing to plan deep ocean expeditions.

I have only written about a small part of her life, I've left out the academic and administration appointments, the lecture tours and the committment to educating humans that underwater research is important to the health of the planet.

When women are good at science they're very very good.

THE SILVER THAW

I can lose hours browsing through the National Geographic photo archives and this one caught my eye. It was taken in Newfoundland by Sam Abell who is one of my favourite photographers.

The plant stems have an icy glaze on them which is caused by freezing rain. The Newfoundlanders call this the silver thaw.

BUS!

Crossing with the lights at a busy intersection can be hairy.

Waiting to cross can be even hairier.

Very large bus which had to be going above the speed limit hit a bump in the road.

I took two or three or even four steps back.

Some part of the speeding bus gouged two tracks along the road surface.

I got showered with sparks. I could smell burning and checked my dress.

About 60 seconds later, a cop car stops at the lights. 60 seconds too bloody late.

A BAD BAD THING

I don't usually do links if I can help it because I find I learn better if I write it in my own words but this article 'The trouble with troubled teen programs. How the "boot camp" industry tortures and kills kids' has to be read to be believed. http://www.reason.com/news/show/117088.html

Now I understand how Guantanamo Bay or the Abu Ghraib incidents could happen.

How can a country that makes a profitable industry from beating and abusing its children claim any moral high ground against any other country?

I'd be happy for any passing American to leave a comment about this.

It recalls the worst of the religious children's homes in Australia of the last century. It shouldn't be happening now in a supposedly free society and I hope it isn't happening here.

TAXI!

I usually love my taxi drivers but I've ridden with two this week that shouldn't be on the roads. Well, they can but just not with me in the car.

Sunday's twit couldn't have found his way out of Baghdad with a squadron of tanks. He didn't trust my Melway Map to Upwey but opened his Melway to check that my Melway was right. That's the way he drove, two maps on his lap and his eyes on the map.

Driver home was much better. He even suffered the Big M drive through for pissed sister who needed fries and coke.

Today's little dear was car blind. There were no other cars on the road except his taxi. It's fortunate that I saw the bus coming straight for us. It's fortunate that the other car turning in front of us saw the taxi and stopped. This guy didn't see them, he was shocked to find other people using his road. I always give a tip however small and I figured this driver could put it towards his pre-paid funeral plan.

I (sorry didn't some blogger or other say one shouldn't put 'I' in blog postings, wanker) walked out to the ATM to collect my inadequate welfare bludge to find a little old lady already there. How many times have I said I am a little old lady magnet? She has a shopping trolley in which she is carrying her oxygen bottle which is connected to her nose. She's about 3'6" and looked like a passing burp would knock her flat. She removes from the machine $800 and I know this, why? Because she stood there and counted it. A three year old hoon could have mugged her.
I gently suggested that perhaps next time she could go into the bank and have the girls give her the money even if they do charge $2 or whatever. She said perhaps I was right since it was hard to hold the oxygen and count at the same time.

I swear when I get old, I'm walking out into the desert straight into the sunset unless I come across the Todd River and drown first. (It has water, it rained there today)

IT'S ONLY THE HEAT

I can't believe it's only a few weeks since I was bitching about the freezing cold. I didn't order stinking hot, just warm would have done. It brought it home to me last night how much we owe to the firefighters who have been going non-stop in heat like this. If Howard had any sense he'd make the CFA Australians of the Year because they deserve it. Not only putting out fires but dealing with the injured animals they come across.

Speaking of animals, I have had some strange goings on at night in the trees outside my window. Call me crazy but it sounds like bats. I don't know of any birds that fly at two in the morning and besides it doesn't sound like bird flight. It's a glidey floomp sound accompanied by icky squeaks (could I write scripts or what) that don't sound like birds. Have I ventured out to see the nocturnals? Bite yer bum, I'm no Indianna Jones and I have enough with the huntsman invasion and the cockroaches.

I'm not sure about the cockroaches, well I know what two species of roach looks like but the two I poured out of the bucket yesterday were not familiar. When we had the air conditioner installed they usually put the outflow into the stormwater but I decided that we could use the water on the garden so it collects in a bucket. So do various insects and I hope they just come from the outside and drown, not through the pipes in the wall. The thought that there might be some thriving metropolis between the plaster and the bricks doesn't help me sleep at night.

I could have preserved the bodies but I don't think I really want to know what they are. The blowflies and mozzies have been thin on the ground so far. No earwigs or cicadas but the ants are getting ready for world domination. Not sure what the spiders are thriving on but they are bigger than last year and I didn't need to look up last night and see one walking across the ceiling. That was after I put my glasses on, before I could just make out a moving blur. I had to wait until it was not over the bed before the capture attempt. I hope my watching him made him embarrassed because he took 20 minutes of stalking to find out it was an empty spider thread floating in the breeze not the insect he thought it was.

Don't you just love Summer. When's Autumn?

PAYBACK

"If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older." Tom Stoppard.

Well the two children and one grandchild of a certain old lady stopped carrying their childhood today. We have paid for our day out on Sunday. When we weren't around she started on the Brick Outhouse and for the first time in his life, with his Grandmother, he stood his ground and gave as good as he got.

In one of those peculiar coincidences, we all gave it back today. From now on we look after her welfare but we're not taking insults or manipulation. The children have grown up.

Speaking of children, one of the loveliest sights of Sunday were the Dads carrying their offspring.
From babies to toddlers, they never left them and it wasn't just babysitting duty, these fathers, mostly older, were really enjoying the company of the little ones.

We might be conditioned by biology to reproduce when we're young but there's a lot to be said for mature age parents.

TODAY I.....

Found out that I still hate cheap gin but love Bombay Sapphire over a twist of lemon and loads of ice.

Found out I love the silence of gum trees.

Found out that one day of gin and silence isn't enough.

AAAAAAAAAAAARGH

That feels much better. I've been at the cuckoo's nest all day.

I get home, make a nice greek salad to eat in front of the ABC's National Trust house program.

Mother calls from the nest.

"Can you see what I'm doing with the video? It's rewinding and I can't stop it."

"I'm three kilometres away."

"well just tell me what to do." (the temptation, the temptation)

I am mentally in her bedroom, guiding fingers to buttons and getting her fingers off the remote.

"I've got all that but the DVD isn't coming through."

"You just got me to turn off the video and the TV. You didn't say you wanted a DVD to play."

"Get the remote, turn on the power button, the green one in the left hand corner. Push the round button to return to DVD play. Press the play button on the machine, the one with the triangle pointing towards the wall."

"It's playing white lines round and round."

"you've put it back to Video. Undo all the fingering you just did. Have you got a DVD in the machine?"

"Of course, I'm not stupid, just a minute while I check. DVD is in the little square slot thingy."

"Press play, triangle points to the wall."

"Playing now." Clunk goes phone.

I'm seriously thinking of phoning the Vet Clinic to see if I can do a deal with the cat and Mother.
(stupid blogger left this out or maybe I'm getting 'mother disease') All this was not said gently but in a steadily rising crescendo much like Phil Spectre's 'Wall of Noise" so the next time I see one of those disaster movies where the cook/flight attendent/somebody's cat is at the controls of a 747 and there is no shouting from the control tower, a boot is being thrown at the screen.

BACK FROM THE CUCKOO'S NEST

Did you know that in place of flyspray you can spray a blowfly with Spray Starch?

This is so it can't fly around and annoy you.

The idea being that its wings stiffen up and it can only lie around dying of starvation.

You also don't have Old Timer's or dementia if you can still read.

So if you catch your Mother writing herself little notes like.....the black square thing is a video and the round flat thing is a DVD......then she's only a little nutty because her memory is shot.

She is living proof that a person can survive on apricot jam and toast.

Such are the things my Mother taught me and that's just today.

ICE COLD

This is a part of the Amery Ice Shelf called the "Loose Tooth" which began breaking away about 10 years ago. The rifts seen above have been opening up and moving steadily at around 4 to 8 metres a day. In 2005, the same rifts were estimated to be rifting at between 2 and 5 metres a day. There hasn't been a major calving from the shelf since 1962-3.

The fracturing is like earthquake activity, variable and spasmodic. One rift lengthened by almost 200 metres over 4 hours. The rift bursts of activity are not directly triggered by either winds or tides but glaciological stress in the ice shelf.

The ice shelves are the floating extensions of the continental ice sheets and moderate the flow of ice into the sea and scientists expect a 30 by 35 kilometre area to break into the sea in the next few years.

Ice Shelf Research scientists left for Antarctica in December 2006 to study the "Loose Tooth" rifting using Global Positioning System units and seismometers to measure movement and to "listen" to the cracking and snapping of the ice shelf as it moves.

This is a long term collaborative project between the Antarctic Climate Ecosystems Co-Operative Research Centre, the University of Tasmania and the Scripps Institution of ocenaography in California.

The Australian Government chipped in with some loose change, $4.6 million.

The same Government is spending over $19 million on its terrorist hotline.

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

I've had a nasty shock this week. I weighed myself, got off the scales, checked that Kirsty Allie hadn't jumped on behind me and weighed again. Dear me, the kilos haven't snuck up on me, they've stampeded and galloped over the top of me. Nearly 6kgs in 10 months, add that to the 5kgs of the year before and I'm halfway back to all weight I lost the year before that. Doesn't time fly when adding up the kilos.

I stress eat. I actually do what every New Age Guru says we should all do, when I eat I'm living in the now with every chomp and chew. Food has a tranquilizing effect on me unfortunately it's sweet food that does the job. I'm not a big eater and yes, I know we've heard that from every fat, obese, morbidly obese person in the world but I am a wrong food eater. I'm also a very slow eater. Other people can go through six courses in the same time as I eat an entree and dessert. I usually eat out of one bowl with one fork and the other hand is holding a book and one eye is on the TV. The diet books say this is a no-no, one should concentrate on every mouthful to the exclusion of everything else. At the rate I eat, I'd be comatose.

I have been trying to be good. We didn't even have a Christmas dinner this year. I'm down to no sugar and a drop of milk in tea which doesn't quite make up for two sugars in coffee or the donut with the coffee. Now I have to bypass the bakery on the way to Mum's. If I buy chocolate, it's very dark with almonds which is extremely hard to scoff the lot. I could steamroll through a box of Lindt between two blinks of an eye. As much as I love a crisp apple and a bitey cheddar, nothing rivals Pavlova loaded with cream and fruit as a calmative.

I could never be bulimic. After years of gallbladder trouble and copious bilious upchucks, I couldn't think of anything worse. I could never be anorexic. Not eating is something I could never be proficient at. Compulsive eating is not what I do either. I don't like overeating and feeling stuffed so eating until a loaf of bread is consumed or a 2 litre carton of icecream isn't me.
What I need a a stress-free life, a calm ordered existence with limited access to anything containing sugar....or fat....or chocolate coated.

Must go now, circus is in town, need new dress, must steal tent.

STARTING 2007 AGAIN

This is how 2007 should have started with a frivolous post about who is more delicious. My Welsh stud muffin above or Zoe's Hollywood Hawaiian SNAG below. Wet or dry I don't think we'd knock either of them back. There's my number one resolution for 2007, more pretty men on this blog, preferably undressed but then someone has to think of the children who might wander in so I suppose that I'll have to clothe some of them.

Telstra has fixed the phone lines so now I'm baaaack. I told them it was the possum circus every night but after watching the recycle truck this morning, I'd say that's been doing some damage as well. Anyway I didn't have to pay. Serious blogging can now continue, that's seriously naked men blogging can continue. Give me a week and I'll settle down and maybe do a thinking piece or two but Happy New Year to all for this week.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Not really, it's been utter crap so far. Mama had a massive panic attack yesterday because she went to sleep and lost her glasses. Lucky me, I'm first on the speed dial, unlucky me because there's not a taxi to be had. Luck changes and a neighbour gives me a lift.

I'm still having trouble with the crackling phone and kindly Telstra tested the outside line and joy to me, it's the line inside the house. This will cost me up to and over $100 depending on what has to be done.

If it fixes the crackle and the dial-up connection trouble I'm having then it's worth it. I just won't tell them I'll be paying it off 50 cents a month on the phone bill.

If I don't answer comments or emails blame it on Telstra.

ANOTHER LAST POST

The geriatric pillock of a cat had a 'Grande Mal' seizure which could be a brain tumour or heat stress. The heat stress is unlikely since he hadn't moved off the feather cushion in six hours. He slept it off in the garden, came in and stared at his empty dish, which I immediately rushed to fill and is now sound asleep behind the couch. He was going to sleep under the side table but gave me a look that clearly said there's cat piss here and went behind the couch. He may not have another one so it's wait and see time.

Phone rings......

Me. "Hello."
Mother. "What's your sister's phone number? I've forgotten it and I can't remember what pills I have to take at 7 o'clock."
Me. "What's wrong with me telling you about the pills?"
Mother. "You're not here."
Me. "Are you holding the pill docette?"
Mother. "Yes, I'm not an idiot."
Me. "Are you on the row that says Saturday?"
Mother. "Is today Saturday?"
Me. "Find the two pills marked 'tea' and take them."
Mother. "Do I take them before or after tea?"
Me. "You've had tea, take the bloody pills."
Mother. "How do you know? You don't know everything."
Me. "I was talking to sis when you rang, I know you've had tea."
Mother. "Are you two talking about me behind my back?"
Me. "Take the pills."
Mother. "I take the two pills marked tea and today's Saturday. See there's nothing wrong with me."

Between her and the cat.............

LAST POST FOR 2006

It could be the last post for a few days if the dial-up connection doesn't right itself. I'm having trouble getting any pages up with a 'cannot find server' message every time I try. This is all from when I installed IE7 so I'm blaming Microsoft. That's one resolution for 2007, move to firefox when I figure out how to change all the settings for mail etc.

The cat has just had a convulsive fit that had him throwing himself all around the room. Almost as though someone had him on a string. He peed everywhere and cried but he's now lying by the open door but I think a one way trip to the vet is coming up. I can't have him in pain and he's going on 19 but with the hard life he's had, it's more like 29.

We are in the process of setting up respite care for Mum. Today she was reasonable and if it was in place she probably would have agreed. Two days from now she'll turn around and refuse all help. It's been that kind of Christmas. Another reason I haven't posted because it's been too painful to put into words, respite care or nursing home and she's not rational enough to make her own decisions so it's going to be kicking and yelling all the way.

I still have my bottle of Jacob's Creek and I think New Year's Eve will be the right time to hit it.
2007 can't be as rough as this year has been.

The only good bit of news was our beloved Prime Minister saying that he would be glad to have a nuclear reactor in his backyard, so saving us thinking about that problem. Of course, he thinks that the whole of Australia is his backyard so we still might have a problem.

MY CHRISTMAS ANGEL

I've left a small window open for you.

YE OLDE TRADITIONS

Holly with its thorns was revered as a Christmas decoration for its supposed protection against witches and the forces of evil. Ivy and mistletoe were also thought to have protective powers. Folklore has it that a cutting of mistletoe hung in a baby's cradle would keep a child safe from Fairies.

Plum pudding came in for the protective powers too. Sitrring the pudding is supposed to make peace between squabbling children and adults.

The Yule log is the least followed of the old traditions. It was supposed to burn for the 12 days of Christmas and deter any witches who were abroad on Christmas Eve. Another Yule log tradition was to sprinkle it with brandy before it was lit, a libation for the old Gods who slept in the log. In the Victorian era, a chocolate cake made in the form of a log and sprinkled with sugar to represent snow was placed on the Christmas table in lieu of the burning log.

The Robin is always associated with the Yule log as it was believed to have first carried fire to the Earth. In the process the Robin singed its breast and it remains red to this day. To counter the old legend, religion stuck its nose in and the Robin was said to have plucked a thorn from Christ's crown accidentally pricking its breast and staining it forever. To the Victorians the Christmas tree wasn't complete without ornaments of Robins.

The Christmas Angel was supposed to wander the World on Christmas Eve searching for cold hearts to melt with love. In a room where the Christmas tree stood, a window was always left open a little for the angel to look in and see the angel ornament on the tree.

I'm not religious about Christmas but I love the old myths and traditions even if they have been incorporated into the "Child's" birthday. I hope they're never rejected for political correctness as we've lost too much of the old ways already. This year though we have a chance to check out a tradition I found last December. Link, it's up to you to check Ipod and see if he kneels at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve to celebrate the "Child's" birth.

It looks like a pretty busy Christmas Eve, witches roaming the countryside, Angels snooping, reindeers flying and cows dropping everywhere.

TWAS THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Aawwww aren't they cute. It's a family of poof penguins and that's exactly what it says in the online Christmas Shop. I did go all Christmassy and buy two tiny reindeer from the $2 shop and I called them Rudy and Dolf. I couldn't afford the penguins but one day I'll be rich and watch me shop.

I'm always kind to little old ladies at this time of year, just in case I'm entertaining an angel without knowing it. Westfield was full of them today although it might have been getting out of Melbourne's bushfire smoke. So when I was held up by a lol in Safeway, I politely waited for her to get moving. Since she could hardly see over the trolley, I felt a kickstart would have done some damage. I waited and waited and wondered if she was ill but no, this old girl who looked about 105 was TEXTING on her flip up camera phone. She was going like the clappers. I can't text that fast. Good thing I didn't hit her, she was probably texting Santa about the nice fat lady behind her.

REQUEST

Please Santa, send me a digital camera so I can stuff up twice as many photos twice as fast as I do now. I did photograph this once before but it was too sparkly but I noticed it came out very well in the mirror behind. What does well as an accident is a bit hard to do intentionally but I tried. It didn't help that sis was pissed and was standing on a stool and had the shakes and threatening to kick me if I photographed her double chin. So I forgot to turn the lights off and shut the blinds but I'm not doing it again.

Americans call these beaded ornament covers but Aussie crafters are a bit up them selves and have taken to calling them chandelier ornaments. I started making them in 2001 so I was first, me, me, me.

When the cover is flat on a table, it's surprising just how big it is. That's the beauty of them, they fit over any size bauble and the shape changes with size. They take concentration which is why I have one half finished on my workbench. Another something I forgot to archive before they were sold or keep for myself.

On a good note, my sister will receive her present two days early this year. I'm still working on the second half of last year's though. Mum doesn't want a present, she says she'll be happy if I stay with her Christmas Day. I think I'm going to get an ulcer from Santa.

WHAT'S MISSING THIS YEAR

The next relo, friend, neighbour or dog in the street that tells me I should have made an effort to get the lights up for Christmas is going to get a doll shoved up the nearest orrifice or strangled with a set of lights. The photo up top is only the window and WWP didn't do it justice as usual. This does not show the four trees covered in bud light nets, the overhead icicles, snowflakes and stars around the carport roof or the flower sprigs in the garden. All of which have to be programmed to twinkle, run, flash and change colour.

Inside this window, where little children love to press their snotty noses which I get to wash off, there are 18 dolls, 1 plush reindeer, 2 Christmas bears, 1 wooden train with 3 carriages, 1 huge wooden boat, 4 knitted elves, 3 knitted dolls, 1 ceramic Christmas tree with lights and about 30 metres of tinsel with assorted Christmas baubles. These all have to be unpacked and repacked.

We had a ramp put in to make walking easier for Mum so you can see how close the kids can get to the window. Well the little dears can piss off and bother someone else this year because this Grinch wouldn't come to the party. I have put her favourites dolls up in the bedroom where she can see them and she's allowed to have the candles with batteries in them since it would be hard even for her to set the house on fire with batteries.

They missed the best sight of Christmas anyway. The Brick Outhouse is driving a VW and watching me trying to get in is almost as good as watching me trying to get out. I managed to twist an artificial knee for pete's sake. It's akin to watching proteins unfold under a microscope. Trust the Germans to make a shoebox on wheels and sell it to a gullible public. The only good thing about it is that the kid can't hoon around in something that sounds like a two-stroke mower.

HANAU

After making a comment on Magic and Memoirs blogspot about geomythology, I decided to get the book down and browse through it. This was an effort to keep my brain from going into total meltdown over the last week. Sometimes I would read a sentence without one word going to the control centre which is why I picked a familiar book.

When I read about the Hanau, I went looking for images on the net and couldn't find one so I used my very own which I picked up on some beach somewhere along the Great Ocean Road. I probably intended to use it on the Blight but it was a good specimen so it was added to the collection in the car boot.

The Hanau or "birth stones" are more often found along the coast of Hawaii as boulders of lava rock. They contain small pebbles or grains of sand in rounded cavities. The cavities were bubbles of gas in the hot lava and when the rock cooled, pounded on the beaches by waves and sand, the bubbles opened up and hollowed out. Little pebbles or grains of sand strike the hollow at just the right angle to be wedged in. The Hawaiians thought they were the babies of the rock, hence the name "birth stones".

The baby is the little red pebble and it is firmly wedged in. If the stones are left on the beach long enough, wind and waves can loosen the pebble and it will churn around, enlarging the hollow but still not be able to fall out.

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS LUST

I would like

to deck

his halls

with boughs of holly

SIX DAYS ON THE ROAD

Joy to waking up and knowing I'd only have to walk to the shop to get the paper and croissants for breakfast.

First bit of mood breaking, no croissants.

Second bit of mood breaking, opening the Herald Crumb.

Third bit of mood breaking, being reminded what a load of vile hypocritical Bible bashing members of Parliament we have.

My friends, themuriels, Samantha and Kelly are lesbians. They live in W.A. and they can't have a marriage ceremony, no civil union, not even a partnership registration even though they've been in their relationship, that is committed relationship for 13 years. If I think that stinks, then I think these items in today's paper set up enough pong to wipe out a small town.

On page 8, we have a double spread on poor Brendon Fevola and his marriage break-up. It was a good marriage, it lasted 14 months until he had a touch of the 'Warnes' and left a message on his mobile phone. The message is supposed to have come from Lara Bingle, model and 19 year old dill who has denied everything. He has a daughter, born in July.

On page 17, we have an old favourite back in the news. Wayne Carey has a new love interest and this time it's not the wife of a teammate but it is another model with aspirations to become an actress. Carey and his wife ended their five year marriage six weeks after the birth of their daughter.

Themuriels, being a same sex couple, are going to wreck the institution of marriage by demanding the right to legalise their life in a ceremony before friends and family. This is the word according to Howard the Rodent.

They might have a chance to get these rights but they'd have to stop being intelligent women and become footballers.

PILL CHECK AGAIN

Another UTI and another six days of madness.

I am so tired I can't think let alone blog.

I hate Christmas lights.

I might punch Aunt Patty and Aunt Selma for being insensitive no-brain morons.

R.I.P. IE7 and good riddance.

I hate Optusnet or Telstra whichever has disconnected me 5 times in the last hour.

I will return Sunday, hopefully with what's left of my sense of humour.

TESTING, TESTING

Who was the moron that decided that IE7 was a good idea?

I don't need more stress in my life.

It's like hitting the dunny and someone's pinched the seat.

What is with all the tabs and what happened to my 'read mail' button?

Why have I now got three tool bars?

Bars, that's a good idea, cold cold beer. Where was I?

I operate this computer with brain on remote so now I have to re-program myself.

A little button keeps popping up telling me a USB port is malfucktioning. I KNOW THAT dumbarse, it's why I bought a new one last week. It's the printer that fritzed and I refuse to call the centre for Indian relief workers to find out where to get it fixed. It has $70 worth of new ink cartridges in it. It was probably the shock of having to do work so the cartridge scrolling thingy won't move.

After this I'm never going to beta blogging. There's only so much frustration I can take.

Big W has the same printer for $98. A bit over $30 a year for the time I've had this one and it's done about $3000 worth of printing. I never thought I'd be glad it's Christmas. I can legitimately buy myself a present.

How much to send a fritzed printer to India?

THROW MOMMA FROM THE TRAIN REVISED

My sister has 30 years of nursing experience under her belt, that's hands on experience not University training. No class room teaching can replace years of observation and experience. There is always something new to absorb and add to knowledge. She found this yesterday when talking to the palliative care nurse who has been giving lectures on pain control and personality changes in cancer patients and how to manage these.

I've always had trouble with describing my Mother as having the beginnings of dementia because the symptoms were never quite right. We knew about the confusion, mild, for twelve months before the cancer was found. Yesterday the nurse asked if our Mother has had a complete personality change or was it simply an exaggeration of her normal personality.

Bells, whistles, tooting horns and fireworks. This was it, not dementia, although that might come, but an exaggeration of her personality. The controlling, manipulating personality we've always dealt with but which was mitigated by kindness and compassion. Now we can deal with it. Everything that was her before, is now blown up out of proportion by pain and struggle and tinged with bitterness that my Father isn't there to help her.

We'll use the tactics we've always used. She will call me an uncaring bitch to my sister. My sister will tell her she is a controlling bitch and walk out. Mother will ring me to tell me what a cold bitch my sister is and I'll be back in favour. After a few days I'll tell her that my sister is in pain with her back and had a dreadful day with a patient and sympathy will flow. Order restored.

Not that she's not shitty about my not doing anything about Christmas lights but at least this morning I managed to get through to her about not changing anything in the house to keep her there but safely. She probably forgot 10 minutes later but for one moment she saw sense and admitted that it was only for her last Christmas. This might be a small breakthrough in finally letting us, not control her, but control her surroundings so she can stay where she is.

THROW MOMMA OFF THE TRAIN

But how to get her on the train first.

My sense of humour has deserted me.

My head hurts in pre-stroke mode.

I have chest pains although that could be the unaccustomed bra wearing.

I have either gastric reflux or an ulcer or drinking beer too fast.

I have reasons.

After two months of "I want my Christmas lights, it's the only pleasure I have left!" type whinging, the Brick Outhouse started doing this on Sunday. She drove him so crazy he ran away from home, for the day. By the time I got there Monday, the house could have doubled for an earthquake movie. 16 bloody Christmas dolls, 2 iron stands and 30 sets of fairy lights covered the loungeroom floor with the old bat trying to use a walker through the mess. She then has the cheek to tell me that if he'd asked, she'd have told him not to bother because she was too tired to do the window. Today is Tuesday and I am forgetting how to be nice again. I will not go and put the dolls up. If I have to fix the lights, I am taking a pair of scissors to them and they will end up in teenytiny strips. I would tell her this but I'm not speaking to her. Believe me, she'll now fall over just to spite me.

I hate Christmas lights.

I hate Christmas.

I like Christmas presents. Someone please give me train tickets, short journey should do it.

WHAT TO DO ABOUT MOTHER

If you've lost a mother and still feel badly about it then don't read any further or you might want to hit me. It's been a nasty two days and I'm still very angry which I have a right to be but shouldn't be because I'm the one with the stroke type headache.

I've asked to ex to officiate at the funeral, whenever it is, because if I had to do anything it would be a tap dance on the coffin and a rousing rendition of 'Ding dong the witch is dead'. According to Mother, I have lost the ability to be nice. She's right about that.

She is trying so hard to maintain control over every aspect of her life that anything I do to make her safe in her own home is countermanded. Perhaps getting angry is a way to soften the blow when she does go. If it is, then it's working. I probably won't miss her for about ten years. We are all so stressed at the moment.

How can she accept all the processes of dying if she doesn't know she is. We can't tell her that she is. I don't know if it is the cancer that is making her twisted and bitter by affecting her brain. I just know that the manipulating that goes on to get us to do what she wants, whether it is good for her or not, is wearing us down. It's so different from when my Father had cancer. He knew he was dying and physically he deteriorated but he was mentally alert until the last half hour of his life. But this is mental and physical and trying to explain to people she rings that they must check before they do anything feels like a betrayal.

So throw another serepax down the throat and go back with a pasted on smile tomorrow and make nice. And why do I go, because she will fall down in the shower just to make me feel guilty.

STAR TRAILS

The stars are God's dreams,
thoughts remembered in the silence of the night.
Henry David Thoreau




Supposing you only saw the stars once every year.
Think what you would think.
The wonder of it!
Tasha Tudor and Richard Brown

ANNUAL DROOL FEST

Well you can't say I don't run an equal pervetunity blog. The model is Karolina Kurkova and she's modelling the year's Hearts On Fire Diamond fantasy bra. The bra is in the balconet style, weighs 800 carats and has more than 2000 perfectly cut diamonds. The centrepiece is a 10 carat Hearts On Fire diamond brooch. The whole thing is an absolute steal at $10 million. It took over 20,000 hours to cut and polish the diamonds and the bra took more than 300 man hours (man hours?) to fabricate. It's more expensive than the $6.5 million diamond dress created for the 2002 Oscars. I'm trying to figure how much it would cost to make it for me considering her bra size and mine. There could be a slight problem with keeping upright, the weight and gravity could have me hovering 2 inches above the footpath. No problem in the old days, whalebone corsets would let a woman load up with at least 2 kilos of bling. I miss the old days.

This was in my letter box when I got home, it's in the Christmas Catalogue for Trewarne's Posh Jewellery Which I Will Never Afford unless I get the ozlootto jackpot next Tuesday night. They send me the catalogue because I get my rings valued there for the insurance and they probably think I have money. I would have money if someone steals the rings, I leave the doors and windows open and lay a trail of breadcrumbs but all I get are possums stealing apples. The catalogue is glossy, the model is classy and skinny and doesn't need the baubles to look a million dollars. Her nails are short though, diamonds look lousy with short nails. Thank goodness I found something to pick on.

Nothing jumped out of the pages and grabbed me by the wallet. Just the ordinary routine diamond bits and bobs albeit big expensive bits and bobs. I have a ring that I drool over. I actually moved a naked bloke off the fridge door to put up it's photo. Stephano Cantauri designed it, that's the jeweller that made the necklace for Nicole Kidman to wear in 'Moulin Rouge'. This ring is so delicious that I wouldn't care if it was glass or diamonds. If I had the chance to get it on my finger (ozlootto - come to witchy) I would have it made up with every colour of Australian sapphires.

I'm going to ignore the two requests for bill payment that came in the same mail. I'm off to cruise the three jewellery websites at the back of the catalogue.

NIGHTMARE

I'm still having a few nightmares and some very vivid ordinary dreams which I remember but are too hard to articulate. I came across some information in a New Scientist article on Near Death Experience.

....."REM Intrusion" is a glitch in the brain's circuitry that, in times of extreme stress, may flip it into a mixed state of awareness where it is both in REM sleep and partially awake at the same time. "The concept that our brain is either 100 per cent awake or 100 per cent in REM sleep is absolutely erroneous," says Mark Mahowald, a neurologist at the Minnesota Regional Sleep Disorders Centre in Minneapolis. "We can have pieces of one state intruding into another, and that's when things get interesting."

But REM intrusion can affect anyone, and frequently does. Recent estimates suggest that up to 40 per cent of people have experienced "sleep paralysis", a form of REM intrusion in which you awaken with part of your brain still in REM sleep and your body paralysed. Often the result is a terrifying feeling of being unable to move, accompanied by visual or auditory hallucinations and pressure on the chest.........total paralysis is a hallmark of REM and REM Intrusion is usually a frightening experience.

REM is Rapid Eye Movement sleep where the activity of the brain's neurons is similar to that of waking hours. It is physiologically different from the other phases of sleep.

Extreme stress, had plenty of that lately. Total paralysis, had that in every nightmare but in every case I've been able to overcome it with great difficulty. No visual hallucinations but auditory ones, check. I've only had one with the pressure on the chest and that was really frightening but reading this article has put everything in its place. The paralysis nightmare has been accompanied by extreme fear as I try to move to dial the phone for help or get to the door to lock it. The auditory hallucinations involved someone circling the house, crashing through bushes and branches and the back door being repeatedly banged open. I had forgotten about the chest pressure until I read this and I had to go back quite a few months to where I had recorded that nightmare.

As soon as I wake up properly the fear goes, I'm just left with the memory, enough to write it down clearly. The reason for this clarity is the combination of the wakefulness and dreaming peculiar to REM Intrusion. I've had stress before without these nightmares so I'm blaming the cat for sleeping on the bed and giving me that extra nudge towards wakefulness which in turn starts the REM Intrusion. It doesn't help to wake up and find two big gold eyes peering into mine and the word "food" being beamed towards my brain.

My dreams are totally different. They're full of colour and detail. I'm also 6 inches taller, 40kgs lighter and 20 years younger and the men are so gorgeous they have to be hallucinations.

LOWERING THE TONE

I've been with Mum all day and I'm too tired to think let alone blog so I thought I'd lower the tone of the blogosphere by looking at naked guys. Him up top is an underwear model and he can model my underwear anytime. On the other hand a cute young thing, with a smile, who can cook and look good near a sink is not to be sneered at. I hate choices except at elections (spelt with an L, gutterminds). I'll think better in the morning after my liver processes the vodka my sister poured into me before she poured me in the taxi.

POSSUMS

These are Brushtail Possums in my tree before it fell down in the storm. They look cute but they bite because they're too stupid to know when a person is trying to help. I accidently locked one in the house a few months back and I woke up to rustlings in my curtains and there was a tiny one trapped. Do you think it would let me help, not a bit of it. It finally ran into the sewing room and shot to the top of the curtain rail so I opened the window, knocked the screen out and shut the door thinking it would find its way out. About 3 in the morning it fell in the middle of my work table, knocked everything on the floor and still couldn't find an open window right next to it. I finally got it through but it hooked its claws around the frame, so I'm trying to shut the window and unhook the claws but as I got one undone, the other would latch on. I felt like a cartoon character but I got it shut just enough and left the little twit plastered to the glass. I heard it fall into the bushes about 10 minutes later.


This is my dear old cat, Lord Greystoke eyeballing a baby who wasn't going to let a cat get in the way of apples and honey. He didn't chase it, he just watched it eat. I've only had one ringtail possum come to forage, mostly it's the brushtails. I just wish they wouldn't traipse over the phone line and crash on the roof. They make an horrendous sound when they fight, like a miniature werewolf, especially if they're just outside the bedroom window. I have to say, Janet, they are cuter looking than American possums.

MORE IRRITATION

If you've been reading this blog over the past year, you'll know that Mum discussed funeral arrangements and we wrote it all down. She could talk about it then but the time's come when it can't be mentioned. I can't put it off any longer so I'm making an appointment with the Funeral Directors to make everything official because I won't be in any condition to do it when the time comes. I've started to write my speech which is damned difficult but I promised her I would be the one to speak and with the help of enough tranquillizers I'll get through it.

By a coincidence, the Funeral Service is the same one the Blight used for his Mother. I'm sure you've read my report on the crappy job I thought he made of talking about her. The Funeral Directors thought differently and offered him the job of celebrant which he will take up next year. I found out this morning when he offered to speak for Mum. Eeewwwwwwwww.

My sister's reaction, eeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Mum's reaction, "I'll rise up out of the coffin and punch him!"

My reaction, apart from eeewwwwwwwwwww, was that he was going to be working within walking distance of MY HOME. That's too close for comfort.
Still it's given me a bit of a laugh because I happen to think he's a smarmy git who oozes insincerity with every breath but other people seem to like him.

It's been a bad couple of days and my sister and I have to cope with Mum on our own. She's having another lecture on palliative care today. Monday's lecture was on the pain control aspect, today's is on the emotional care of cancer patients. If Mum was having some sort of treatment, like chemo or radium then we'd have support but being conservative treatment then we're on our own except for the family doctor who is pretty good.

She is tired, very cold with a general weakness in the body. She's lost more weight and has various symptoms of tumour elsewhere in the body but we think there's another come back in the breast. She's in pain but manageable, she's in her own home, she can still shower and do her own little bit of washing in between sleeping a lot. We've discussed it and we can't justify putting her through more painful tests to find out where the cancer is when she can't be treated without shortening her life because anything now is only palliative. In other words, treatment will give her more time but not cure her. Deep down she knows this and turns away if we try to talk about it so we keep up the pretence that everything is fine.

I think this is worse than all the other times we have nursed her, not because it won't end in wellness but because I feel like a vulture circling the carcass. Our lives are in a holding pattern and we're waiting. Mentally it's draining and my heart goes out to any parents who are going through this with children.

I think I'll cheer myself up by telling my girlfriend about the new celebrant. She'll laugh, she's known him longer than I have. Yep, a good laugh is what I need.

APPLE TIME

This is my apple tree just before we had that 36 degree day in October and the north wind blew all the blossoms to kingdom come. However, at yesterday's count, there are 28 apples growing and more on the way. I threw out bread and honey for the possums last night and caught the glow of little eyes in the branches. The swines are already checking out the crop but they were so tiny. I didn't see mum possum anywhere, just the two little ones. So now there's a water dish under the tree for them. A big planter for the doves to swim in, another bowl to drink from and the bird bath out the front and another bowl by the gate. The birdbath has developed a leak so it's out with the cement again. The birds and the possums seem to be much thirstier this year so it looks like I'll be hauling water full time all summer. I just wish they'd make up their minds which water they want to wash in and what they want to drink from.

IT'S MEME TIME

This one's a killer and I've had it hanging around for some time. Not strictly a meme and I got it somewhere on the web. After the last post I looked at it again and I still can't do it.

My Father was.............

As a result, my life.............

In my future, I foresee...........

I MIGHT NOT REMEMBER EVERYTHING.......

I'm still trying to get dates straight but I didn't have straight hair and boy, was it red.

The first year of my forgetfulness has been revealed. My Mother had a lump removed from her breast and I found one in mine but both were benign. She then had a breast reduction and she was never happier at not having to drag two bags of concrete around on her chest. I don't know how Pamela Anderson does it. She got over that and broke her leg. It didn't slow her down though, she was seen to mow the lawn with a plastic bag over the plaster. That's probably what caused her heart attack.

The heart attack caused suicidal depression which she neglected to mention to anyone. She said she used to watch the window for that red hair to go past and she'd feel as though she could get through the day. She finally told her doctor and two weeks on anti-depressants, she was raring to go.

Apart from riding my bicycle to Mum's everyday, what was I doing. I was looking after my kid, my sister's kid, three dogs, four cats, an incompetant husband and dealing with my father who was terrified something else would happen to mum. I found it very difficult to be an adult with him, I was still his little girl while my sister was his little mate. He found it very hard to show his feelings because of his childhood so to thank me he had a gift delivered in the mail. It was from Franklin Mint and a copy of one of Faberge's eggs on a chain. Nothing he did before or after ever came close to that gesture of thanks.

As I said in the comments earlier, I didn't forget, for the next five years I think I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. My sister said she was suffering from permanently being pissed. The Blight mostly just hid under a rock. So I think Dr. Watson, we have a solution to the mystery of the dreamings, nightmarings and panicpanicpanic, it's just the past coming back to bite me.

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST

That sounds familiar, wonder where I saw it. I've been having dreams, a few nightmares and flashbacks into my past. The dreams I can handle, write them down, think about the meanings or not. The nightmares have been a little more frightening because it's unusual for me to have even a bad dream. They've been accompanied by an intense irrrational fear within the sleep state but which disappears when I wake up. A curiosity that intrigues me but doesn't bother me. The flashbacks are something else.

I don't remember very much of the second half of the first decade of my marriage. The second decade was a lot better thanks to a very good therapist who helped me along the road to realising who I was and how I came to be this person. The rest of the road I was supposed to travel alone and make my own discoveries but I'm easily sidetracked and working out a personality that included a backbone was hard work. I discovered an ability to create an object from an idea that was exclusively mine. Now I've sidetracked myself, back to not remembering.

I was watching the news about the 'Palace' in St. Kilda which is now a music venue but way back when, was a convention centre, can't be sure about that. I do know that I suddenly remembered going to a function there for the Blight's work. I wore a long black silk crepe dress with a diamente necklace that hung down to my waist with silver shoes and bag and my hair was just beginning to grow. The shoes should give me a reasonable date because they were my favourite pair, my only pair of evening shoes in the style of Madame Pompadour and the damn dog ate the bow off one. It couldn't have eaten both, no just the one. Sorry sidetracked again. It's just that this whole event became so crystal clear in one moment after living somewhere else in my mind for years. I was nervous and I was ill with the flu, not a cold but the big 'I' and I walked into a room full of cigarette smoke and almost passed out. I said my hello's and walked straight out and got a cab home. End of boring story.

This era of my life was also one filled with panic attacks, nausea and hyperventilating. My constant companion was a paper bag to re-breathe CO2 before I passed out. I was classy even in that, the bag was a green one from Harrods in London. That gives me another reference point, my girlfriend brought it home after her overseas trip. So why should this memory gallop up and bite me in the generous backside? I've been having panic attacks again and it's taken a week or two to recognise them. No Harrods bag this time but two steepled hands across my nose and I'm right even if I'm in the middle of Westfield. A sit-down with a cup of coffee and it's business as usual. The difference between then and now is that I know what is happening to me and I know how to deal with it.

Now to get over the spider phobia, the cockroach phobia, the scales phobia, the fear of flying, fear of John Winston Howard living like Dracula, that is forever, then I might be on that road to mental wellbeing.

SPAM GOES TOO FAR

"Treacle pudding, fish and chips, fizzy drinks and liquorice, flowers, rivers, sand and sea, snowflakes and the stars are free. He's goin' everywhere, B.J. If you've got a problem chum, think how it could be. It's true I hire my body out for pay, hey hey. Every stop I make, I make a new friend. Sharing everything with fun, that's the way to be. There's a voice that keeps on calling me. Thunder, thunder, thundercats, Ho! Thundercats are on the move, Thundercats are loose. McKay and this is my best friend Bear. I take care of both of them, which ain't easy, 'cause when they met it was MURDER! La la la la la, la la la la la la la, la la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la la la la la, so - Barnaby The Bear's my name, never call me Jack or James, I will sing my way to fame, Barnaby the Bear's my name. Ma"

That was one spam message I received today and I didn't click on the link that preceeded it.

The next two spam messages were by any standards, pure written pr0n. I believe my mouth fell open. I'm used to the offers to prolong my s*xual joy but these didn't offer that and they both had links to click but I wasn't walking through that door. I don't know where they came from but I wish I could send a rocket back.

I've also been getting spam with part of my outlook mail address which hasn't happened before.

The only places I leave that is the few blogs that require it. I'll have to remember to use the gmail one from now on.

Sorry Russian ladies but I can't help you and as for the polish refugee with money in some far away bank account, sorry to you too. I wish the Israeli stockbrocker would realise I don't have any money to spare. In fact I'd wish you'd all go to spam hell.

HOW TO CRUNCH AN ECOSYSTEM

Tristan Da Cunha was named for Portuguese sailor Tristao do Cunha who discovered the islands in 1506. The circular island is surrounded by 1000-2000 foot cliffs on a coastline of 21 miles. It's dominated by Queen Mary's Peak, an active volcano that last erupted in 1961. The group of islands making up the Tristan Da Cunha group lie midway between Cape Town, South Africa and Buenos Aires, Argentina in the South Atlantic Ocean. There are species here not found anywhere else in the world.

A message was received at Tristan on the 22nd May from the master of TG Mighty Deliverer which said that due to bad weather TG Mighty Deliverer was forced to release the platform rig PXXI at 35'48S 013'35W to avoid risk to the platform and his ocean-going Tug Boat.. The platform was released at sea unmanned with no onboard fuel, thus contamination free. The total length is 104.9m, breadth 103.63m and draft 13m.





The Platform was found at Tristan on the 7th June on the SE side of Tristan at Tripot Gulch.. The Rig was visited by Tristan Officials on the morning of Thursday, 08 June 2006. She was grounded approximately 300m from the shore. There did not appear to be any oil leaking, only a small diesel slick. It was grounded directly off the Trypot Rock Hopper penguin rookery but the penguins had already left the island.

The Tristan Da Cunha Government then announced that the oil rig that had been stranded on Trypot Reef to the south-east side of the Island wasn’t going anywhere. And there were fears that any pollution coming from the rig could cause Yellow Nosed Albatros deaths and other birdlife fatalities on the Island on the outlaying islands of Inaccessible and Nightingale

The Tug Zouros Hellas departed Tristan on Saturday the 29th July without being able to remove the rig.

In September the South African research ship SA Agulhas arrived with Marine Biologist/ Photographer Sue Scott from Scotland and Geoff Fridjhon from South Africa to do an Environmental Assessment. However due to bad weather conditions they were not able to do much surveying at the rig because of heavy swells breaking in the harbour and around the island. Since the tug departed the island the rig had tilted slightly to seaward.
Two dives took place on the 21 and 22nd September, the first dive was without underwater cameras as it was considered likely that they would be damaged, due to the heavy swell and poor visibility. Although the dive ended after only ten minutes, it was useful as considerable marine growth was seen on the legs of the rig.

The outcome was, there appeared to be more growing on the legs than originally thought, the legs were coated with large quantities of dead coral, barnacle and oyster shells, while the horizontal sections had less coral but more oyster and other bivalve shells, a few small hard corals, a few large mussels, large dark red anemones etc, some which at depth were alive, and are non-native to Tristan.

So the timetable was….30th April the rig was released, the crew had it in sight until 16th May. It was briefly sighted again on 30th May but lost until June 7th when islanders discovered it on the reef. The Salvage tug departed Tristan on 29th July without salvaging the rig. Environmental assessment dives took place at the end of September but as far as I can find out the rig is still grounded at Tristan da Cunha.

Since we have satellites that can pick up a fly on Saddam’s nose I can’t understand why this wasn’t picked up while drifting around the Southern Atlantic or why it wasn’t fitted with a GPS chip or why the towing tug wasn’t prepared for bad seas in an area that’s notorious for them. The bottom line is that Tristan da Cunha is now threatened by an invasion of foreign shellfish that puts the ecosystem of the islands at risk.

MY PARTY TIME

I have such an exciting life that it's taken me nearly five months to fill a 24 exposure film in my camera. This is my September party dress which doesn't show up as it should because I'm a lousy photographer which you all know by now. The dress is a dark, almost black, green velvet with a emerald sparkle paisley pattern. Princess Diana had a dark blue velvet with a star sparkle effect and she and I had the same problem. The little sparkles are sharp and rip the shreds off any exposed skin and in her dress she had a lot more exposure than I did. It took about a week to clear up both forearms so now I remember why it stays in the dress bag. It also sheds little green sparkles over anyone who ventures too near.

This is the box I covered for the birthday boy. It's six sided which is the Chinese Feng Shui shape for good luck. Yes, once again WWP (I'm going to trademark that) hasn't done it justice.

The brocade was burgundy with a gold thread pattern and to keep the Chinese theme I dangled a bead tassell from a button a la mandarin's hat. I used metallic electric pink beads to pick up the subtle colour underneath the gold patterns.

The inside was a deep purple shot with black shimmering fabric which doesn't show up well but take my word it looked fantastic. It was finished off with a tiny gold braid. I hate to blow my own trumpet here but I was really pleased at the way it all came together and the photos don't do it justice I tell you. I can't be good at everything.

NOTHING TO DO WITH IT

Nope, he's got nothing to do with this post whatsoever. He's purely there to be looked at and appreciated for his statue like beauty, aesthetic qualities and phwooor, wow, yum, drool.

We're still cleaning, it goes on forever. Who invented clean? My new toy is brilliant if a bit unwieldy. All the little bits that go on the end of the dustbuster work and my window sills are almost dead insect free. Not the Bogong moths though. They have to be picked up with a front end loader. Is it just me, or are they earlier than usual and bigger than ever? A B52 doesn't have a wing span that big. I just washed the curtains and the bodies are piling up in the folds as I type. The cat loves them. The joy of being woken up by paws crushing my face as he tries to climb the bed head to catch them in the moonlight.

I'm overlooking the US elections because the coalition of the dills is still in place.

The Federal Government has finally twigged that if you give mothers a baby bonus of $4100 then they're going to spend it. So to stop these ruthless consumers, the bonus will be paid in 13 instalments, but only to mothers under 18. These teenage mothers are supposed to have blown the money on plasma TVs, overseas trips and partying. In this article there's no mention of what they did with the baby while watching the tv, overseas tripping and partying. Mal Brough said they'll maintain the lump-sum payment for adults because most dealt with the payments responsibly. Wrong, since when did turning 19 suddenly make an irresponsible 18 year old gain maturity. Give it to all in a lump sum or instalments.

I've given up my shopping day posts. I hate Safeway and Coles. Coles not so much because they at least have a cafe for a coffee and cake, Safeway wouldn't care if I dropped to the ground in exhaustion. I hate the top shelf in any supermarket because half of what I buy is up there, way at the back, way way at the back. Don't they have minions to re-stock shelves? My one ray of sunshine was finding the Menindee grapes are in. I wasn't greedy, just a small bunch and was I glad it was small. When did grapes sell for $14.95 a kilogram? I could have bought 4 bottles of cheap booze for that. I couldn't put them back, I'd handled them which made me think that maybe someone else had so they've been washed several times. On my list of all time greatest inventions, individual steam fresh vegetable bags. No more dead and dying vegetables in my crummy fridge and I don't have to peel anything except the top off the bag.

BEHIND IN THE READING

It's not too bad, New Scientist for 21st October so I'm just a little behind with the news.

Reading about Iraq's body count from The Lancet.
"......there have been between 400,000 and 950,000 "excess" deaths in Iraq since the start of the US-led invasion in 2003....."
The excess deaths were from gunshots or car bombs.
"Excess" deaths, I'm still trying to get my mind around that description.

In 2004, a federal court in the US ordered anthrax vaccination to be voluntary after soldiers complained of serious side effects. In 2006 the military is to resume mandatory vaccinations because it says they're safe. Would you buy a used tank from this mob. Oh damn we did, didn't we.

There has been a global analysis of malnutrition by the International Food Policy Research Institute and this caught my attention.
......."hotspots" of hunger in south-east Asia, despite huge progress overall in the region thanks to the transformation of agriculture during the "green revolution" of the 1970s. These include parts of India, where women and children often go hungry because men traditionally get to eat their fill first........

WOMBLING

I call this wombling because I'm rambling over common ground full of potholes, covered in brambles and tracks that might lead to somewhere or nowhere.

I have a brain, almost new, rarely used so it's not in a good enough condition to understand a lot of the issues I've been coming across in the blogs I've been reading lately.

I don't understand anti-semitism when it's applied to Israel, why isn't it just anti-Israel the way it is anti-American? The Arabs countries are run along their religious lines so why aren't they anti-Islamist but no, they're referred to as anti-Iraq, anti-Iran etc. Anti-semitism, when used seems to apply to every Jewish person from the North to South Pole. Countries are fair game to criticise, but to criticise every person of that country doesn't make much sense to me. I'm anti- Burma because I don't like the military monsters that are slowly destroying that beautiful country but I'm not anti-Burmese. I'm anti-American policies but I know all Americans are not fundamentalist, gun-toting war-mongering greedy capitalists. It seems I've entered a part of my commonground that is a bramble patch.

It's the same with feminism and feminists. I would have regarded myself as a lightweight feminist only because I'm not out there on the barricades beating off the misogynists with a cricket bat. That was until I started reading feminist blogs. Reading, but in a lot of cases not comprehending the meaning behind the letters, words, sentences and paragraphs. The women are brilliant with their arguements but I'm missing the full impact because the arguements are too clever for anyone of ordinary education. Lately I've read some excellent posts on women and pornography and women and prostitution but it's taken quite a few reads and in some cases I've printed out the posts to go through them word by word. I've seen how women will get behind each other in issues like abortion or IVF and I don't have to be a radical feminist to see how this benefits women but I don't have to fight every fight or take up every cause, it's my choice if I want to disagree.

I still don't see how loving high heeled shoes and make-up makes one a bad feminist. I see it, again, as a personal choice. I hate having to wear granny shoes but I also hate falling over so I've no option. I don't wear underwear at home but I do going out, once again it's because I might fall over or trip over my assets if they hang down too far. I love make-up, perfume, fashion (make that good fashion) and hair dye. A man or men haven't influenced me in those choices and I certainly don't diet for men, hell, half the time I can't get the willpower to diet for me. So am I a good feminist or a bad one, bramble patch again.

Homophobia is another thing I don't get. My definition of a homophobe is a bloke who thinks he's so ugly that he's frightened not even another bloke would hit on him so he strikes first. Gays are men, lesbians are women, men and women are human beings. Human beings deserve to find what happiness they can, in any way they can, with whomever they choose. Why is it so threatening to see two people, in love, commit to a life partnership, legally. Be it a civil union or a religious ceremony and religious because, guess what, there are gays who actually believe in God. And until that God comes down from the sky throwing thunderbolts and screaming "Kill all the homos!" then I'm going to believe he meant them to be here and to have the same respect everyone else does. If anyone dares to comment that if we let the gays marry then people will want to marry their dogs and cats then I'll break my rule about deleting comments. It's a ridiculous arguement and it's been destroyed by better bloggers than me. I see a faint track through this bramble patch.

I'm still stumbling over the potholes of politics. Philosophy is a bramble patch I'll never get into or out of. Literature, well I'm one who enjoyed the DaVince Code, but it's a oncer read. Don't like Patrick White, love Jane Austen and Harry Potter is my comfort read when I'm down. The Internet is a wonderful tool of education but it can also function as a pit of inadequacy into which I fall too often.

TO SARAH

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDDAUGHTER

QUICK QUIZ

I have been cleaning at the witch's cauldron.

It's a long drawn out process because I will get sidetracked by everything under the sun except the cleaning.

Now that I've finally had the dripping tap fixed in the bathroom and no longer need a jug, basin and watering can in there to catch the water, I cleaned up. Usually I wait until the silverfish start dying in the accumulated powder.

Tidied up the bathroom shelves, lined up all the bottles in a nice straight line and reminded myself to watch "Sleeping with the Enemy" again.

The shelves also brought to mind a quiz I saw ages ago. What is the worst snooping a person can do? Look at someone's bathroom cabinet or look in their fridge?

Cabinet's not bad, check fridge. Okay, any visitors can amble through my lotions, potions and face powder but no-one is allowed near the festering swamp that masquerades as my fridge.

It's not entirely my fault. Someone I was married to broke the plastic drainage thingies by jamming a week's beer supply up against them. The drainage thingies used to dribble down the big drainage tube to the tray underneath the fridge but now it just falls to the bottom inside. I had enough water in there to stave off the drought.

Check freezer, enough ice to sink the Titanic.

Check seals to ensure a tight fit for maximum performance. The seals must be those ragged broken bits around the door that are a pain to clean. Someone I was married to had pulled the bottom one almost completely off then sneakily repaired it with packaging tape.

I can't clean it yet. I remembered why I had those long barbecue tongs when I don't barbecue anymore and why they were rusty which is why I threw them out. Buy new ones next week but in the meantime move the champagne to a higher shelf just to be safe.

The champagne is to celebrate the 5th anniversary of my divorce from someone I was married to which is today but I think I'll get ratfaced on Cup Day. This will continue a long tradition, set by him I was married to, of never seeing out the first Tuesday of November in anything resembling a conscious state.

THE MIND'S A FUNNY THING

I have just spent two days with my Mum. I don't know about her mind but mine is turning to mush. I'm finishing her sentences and finding words for her when she says, "Oh you know".
I watched her take one and a half hours to write out her shopping order and it was hard to sit back and not take over. She wrote everything down then checked the pantry, wrote some more on a little piece of paper and then copied it out again but not on one large piece of paper but two more pieces of paper exactly the same size as the first. Even with that she couldn't ring the order through without losing her place and ordering some things twice, until I gave her a pen to cross out each item.

I'm beginning to feel like a mind reader although it wasn't hard to figure out what she meant when she wanted to know the name of the brown shoe polish you put on toast. Round things with the flag on them meant English muffins. Soup was confusing because she didn't want the large tin nor the small tin but the in between tin which is soup for one. I didn't have much luck explaining that you couldn't get anything smaller than soup for one.

The Brick Outhouse has finally grasped the fact that he has to think about what she's saying and while she isn't lying, if she can't remember then she'll make up whatever sounds best. Yesterday he went looking for his lunch which he'd left in the fridge. I'd put the groceries away and I hadn't seen any vegetable patties so he asks Mum. Mystery solved, she'd eaten them but she said that because that's what he asked. When he found them in the bin, the story changed and yes, she had thrown them out because they were soggy. It's hard not to put thoughts in her mind which she then trots out as truth half an hour later.

It's not Alzheimer's, it's more like a short circuit. She'll come out with half a sentence because she's been thinking of the first half in her mind but doesn't realize she hasn't spoken it. Changing subjects in mid-stream is another problem but I'm getting quicker with that. With other things she still functions okay. She now has full control of the DVD/Video player after a few hiccups. She can still talk about politics and how she's going to vote. No trouble with showering, washing clothes, dishes or cooking. There's just this little cog slipping out of sync between thought and mouth.

When I come home, I can't think for myself. I've been sitting down and picking up needlework or some other piece of craft, just for an hour or so until the brain settles down and the blood pressure. Now I understand why basket weaving used to be given to long-term patients in hospitals. Doing work with the hands and watching what you're doing seems to use one part of the mind while the other part runs around patching up the holes. Even blogging doesn't play the right part, the last post shows that because I have no idea how I ended up with three different fonts.

The next crunch to come is allowing her to have some Christmas lights but not the full house set. That involves about 6 powerboards and numerous timers and she won't remember what she's doing and we are a bit worried about her burning the house down. It's not like we haven't worried about that in other years but now it will be worse. My sister says I'm thinking too far ahead but it's already the 3rd of November and she's drawing up plans including me doing all the work. That's not going to happen, I've resisted for the last four years and I'm still digging in the toes, no lights, no dolls, no Christmas window. I know what the trade-off will be, I'll be spending Christmas Day with her with no escape clause. That's not mean because I would rather remember last Christmas Day as the best one we'd had for ages.