THE KAZANJIAN RED DIAMOND

Some background on this piece of red loveliness, a diamond of unusual colour.
It was found at Lichtenberg in South Africa. Lichtenberg was the site of several diamond rushes during the 1920s. The main rush took place on 20th August 1926 when over 6000 people, in response to a starter's signal, ran to peg a claim.

A diamond broker by the name of Houthakker bought a 35-carat piece of dark boart. Boart is the lowest quality of diamond so badly flawed and coloured that it's only good for industrial use and one of these is being crushed into a powder and used for polishing gem quality diamonds.
Houthakker showed the stone to Sir Ernest Oppenheimer who suggested it be sent to the Goudvis Brothers in Amsterdam. At first look the brothers weren't impressed but the eldest thought he saw a light in the rough stone.

The firm's master-cutter made a window on each side of the stone. 2 carats were lost in the cutting and the stone remained black. Windows were then cut on all sides, reducing it to 23 carats of brownish stone. After the cutter made the stone into a crystal shape he could see a beam of light.

After seven months of studying and polishing , it became this 5.05 carat emerald-cut gem of a deep ruby red colour. As it was so unusual it was almost impossible to calculate a firm estimate of its worth. It crossed and re-crossed the Atlantic to New York without finding a buyer.

At the beginning of WW11 it was put in a safe in the city of Arnham but in 1944, it and all the other diamonds disappeared. Two years later a parcel was found in a saltmine near Hitler's retreat at Berchtesgarden. The American Army notified the war-loot commission and the red diamond was identified and returned to the Goudvis family.

The stone was sold several times in the following years until in 2007, a customer of the Kazanjian Brothers, Beverly Hills jewellers, showed them the diamond. They bought it and named it the Kazanjian Red Diamond. It is now on display a the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County before going on a worldwide tour.

I MIGHT BE A BIT CROOK AFTER ALL

I'll know in four days or so. They took enough blood to transfuse an elephant and whoopee, I got to hold the vials full of blood. I forgot to take off the bandaid in time so that's up in a welt, stupid allergies.

The pains in my shoulders, elbows, fingers, wrists, ankles and toes aren't from doing too much, cutting down trees, tension, making jewellery, vacuuming, carrying heavy groceries, moving scoria rocks, bucketing water to the lemon tree etc. I have massive inflammation in all the joints, in fact none of my rings will fit on my left hand at all so that's a worry.

It's either arthritis flaring up from the doing of too much, rhuematoid (?) which the Chinese blame on suppressed anger (moi! Angry!) and is an immune system thing or viral arthritis which I haven't googled yet. I could be manifesting malingering as a new hobby.

Mummy dearest was very sympathetic. She says I should stop doing things like all of the above except when it applies to her. She dreads anything happening to me and then she'd be left all alone. Thanks Ma, I'm glad it's all about you. Thanks to Caroline for the grave curse.

Fingers aren't hurting because I have $20 keyboard back, all bright and shiny and clean. I'm dazzled by the keys in all that whiteness.

Forget the hurty-achy bit above and answer something serious. Does anyone know why a DVD, my 'Serenity', won't play on the new player but will on the computer and did on the old player?
This is extremely important since I might have to malinger with my feet up in front of the teev.

GETTING PERSPECTIVE

I'm full of impotent rage.
I'm speechless with the unfairness of family members.
So I'm taking a few days to get a bit of perspective about the issues raised.
For once it's not my mother who's got my dander up but it is about her.

My granddaughters are coming again tomorrow, just for the day, before they leave on Saturday. The one thing they want to do is put flowers on their father's grave.
They have never been taken there in 13 years.
I'm glad they want to do this but I think it will kill me.

On a last note, I swear I will never hand my life over to another person, never.

TIRED AND EMO

Hot Andrew has been having a bad week and is tired and emotional, not the Hollywood 'tired and emotional' which means pissed to the gills and in need of urgent rehab.

My day, sung to the tune of that annoying women's magazine full of crap was tiring and emotional and I could have done with being pissed to the gills.

I walk to the pharmacy, 2kms, to put in Ma's morphine script, pay bills, send parcels, pick up medication. Did I mention that it was a cold wind this morning so that I wrap a scarf around me and the bags? I just miss two buses going to Southland in opposite directions so I wait and it rained on me. In the middle of summer, I get rained on.

More walking around Southland, more shopping, more carrying bags. More, much more swearing at stupid trolley. Half price homeyped shoes aren't in my size but never mind David Jones has one Estee Lauder Christmas special box left and my credit card and I grab it.

By the time I stagger to the taxi rank, it's hot and sunny and not a cloud in sight. Arrive at Ma's and a good samaritan has brought in the garbage bins but because of BrickOutHouse moving a rust bucket ute into the carport, they're right in the drive and I have to get the groceries around them. I show my adultness by throwing the recycle bin flat on the ground behind the rust bucket.

Various annoyances by all members of my family have me shouting, throwing and blood pressuring and in tears by the time I came home. I can't say anything because once the words are out, they can never be taken back and I can kill with words.

I didn't get any chocolate.

There's birdshit on my newly washed doona.

Don't be nice to me, I'm in the kill zone.

A WRENCHING DAY

I have a large Op-Shop box in the hall and when I put anything in there, it stays. (unless Miss Lucy Tartan is blogging to Bendigo and would like the 70s dress patterns)

So today I threw in 6 brooches and 12 pairs of earrings. I'm in shock.

I also threw in the recycle bin 4 empty boxes. That was enough, I couldn't throw out the other six.

They were velvet. No-one gets jewellery in velvet boxes these days. It was essential to keep them for historical research.

That was quite a cull of the earring drawer though, a real walk down memory lane. I remember every dress that matched each pair of earrings. OhLaLa was the best shop for costume jewellery and I think I singlehandedly kept it from bankruptcy for years.

I look at the rubbish being sold now and it's not made to last more than one season. It's the reason I won't buy anything unless it's on sale because that's about the true worth of the shoddy glitter. I get home and the first thing I do, is go through and make sure all the connecting rings are connecting and not lying in wait to rip your throat out.

So while I'm remembering this and that dress, I realize that I can't remember what I was wearing on several very important days in my life. Now it's really bugging me and I've made a list of days and I'm trying to put a dress to each one.

The wedding doesn't count, him leaning on my re-embroidered linen trying to look sober is etched forever in my memory circuits. It always amazes me how people get so much detail into an autobiography when I can't remember a dress.

ANOTHER REPORT FROM SPOOK CENTRAL

As usual it's Mothering Monday.

Aunt Selma is still in I.C.U.

And Mother tells me today that she nearly went last week.

*Gasp* Bugger, only nearly?

She was walking to the bathroom and in a great deal of pain and a blackness settled all around her. She said to herself, "this must be the way you die."

But she didn't because she could feel someone pushing her back from the darkness.

That would be the afternoon she rang sounding a bit panic stricken. With my usual sensitivity, I told her to take two asprin and call me in the morning.

It must be true though because she really didn't like talking about it today.

If I find out who was doing the pushing, they're going straight down to the hot place.

BELIEF, NOT BELIEVE OR SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN

A curious title for a post and most will shake heads and say 'Nuts'.
My sister is not a psychic ala John Edwards.
She does have a talent for automatic writing. She can sit with pencil and paper and the writing is not her own. Usually it's family who've passed but want to say something. She told my father-in-law to piss off as he appears to be as bossy and obnoxious on the other side as he was here.

I'm in between the believing and not believing but sometimes she comes up with something that I can't put down to coincidence. She only saw the girls for a short time yesterday, enough to say hello and how was Christmas.

She rang very late last night with a query. Was there a handprint belonging to my son anywhere around the house? She kept getting the handprint written very forcibly. I knew what it was and there was no way she could have known.

When son was just learning to write his name, he wrote it in paint across a brick right in the front of the house. It was hidden by ivy for years until I ripped it down when the house became mine. Hidden in the ivy was also an old ceramic lamp base which is now back in his room and a couple of little ornaments he liked. I can't remember why they were there but I remember having a bit of a bawl when I found them. Sorry, short story becoming long story.

When GD2 was leaving, she spotted his name and walked to the wall and placed her hand over his name. She didn't say anything for a while, just stood there with her hand flat on that brick.

A handprint.

OMG BUT I'M TIRED

I want a gold medal for the last two days.
I want a silver medal for the three days of cleaning the house before those two days.

Granddaughters are more beautiful than ever. They speak well without any Americanisms or if they do, they leave it for their friends.

We did the mummy visit yesterday. They talked to her while I did the washing and the lunch and the putting clothes away thing. Mum decided to go through the wardrobes and do something with the clothes that no longer fit. They were mostly on the floor when I arrived because she hasn't got the strength to carry them from one wardrobe to the next. That was a bit of a shock to her. Also a shock, Aunt Selma is in i.c.u. with heart problems which is just like her to want to beat her twin to Heaven. She's churchy and believes in clouds, harps and angels.

After the girls had a rest with a DVD and an hour on SMS contacting the entire population of Queensland, I suggested walking to the DFO across the park.
This makes me officially insane. I forgot we had to walk back.
After doing the shops with two shopaholic teenagers who have an eye for a bargain that would make Scrooge McDuck look like a spendthrift, my feet were at least 3 yards behind me as I staggered from seat to seat.

At one store (no seat outside) I waited for 20 minutes for GD2 to come out of the change room. When she did, "Doesn't this look great?" and "Yes it does", out loud, mentally it was "Now get back in the change room and put clothes on". When did a 13 year old grow a rack like that? I scanned the shop for bug-eyed boys with castration in my heart but melted when the shop assistant mentioned that my daughters were lovely looking. It killed me to say 'granddaughters'.

We did over jeans, shoes, tops and, just for me, a jewellery store. Two cans of Red Bull helped the failing stamina. The total haul was modest in dollars if not in coverage. They've got good taste. GD1 was a bit worried that the black petticoat was too short under the see-through dress so Grannie of the Threads lost eyesight stitching a row of 6 inch deep black and silver lace to it.

I was staggering just a bit on the way home. GD2 was skipping, jumping and twirling. GD1 was attempting to keep me from falling off the path. At the bottom of the street I lost feeling above the knee caps but below the bladder which was threatening to become a spillway over a dam. I sent the girls on to the shop for ice-cream and potato crisps for tea (bwca, they love vinegar&salt) while I made a snails crawl for the bathroom. I cooked a shocking tea, cooking skills get drowned in pain but after liberal applications of both tomato sauce and mayonnaise, it was eaten.

Then I did it again this morning. We walked to Nando's for lunch and then on to the hospital to see my sister but we got a lift home, joy. They went off to a cousin's about four but I might see them again before they leave. Usually I'm disappointed that they watch TV or stay on the computer but I know why they do that now. I'm the rest stop where they don't have to do anything except relax. No hassles, no problems, no being made to be sociable, no dishes, no showers if they don't want to and back to back DVD watching.

And their Grandfather? Well he's up country visiting the Blonde's family and I couldn't give a stuff. I had a better time than he's having and the girls didn't care either.

NEW YEAR HAPPY

I have always hated New Year's Eve. I must have been a real emo child because I'd get to Christmas and think, "I've made it through another year." Then the next thing it would be New Year's Eve and I was looking down the tunnel at another year to get through. Happiness at this time of the year was never my strong suit.

Later in my married state I also hated the drinking and the hangovers of so-called responsible adults. I hated being the sober one at every party. In fact, I used to put in an appearance early in the night and then go home for a cup of tea and some tv and trundle back in time for supper. Usually by then the neighbours would be more repulsive than normal so I would take a plate of food home and put my feet up and watch more tv.

This year is a little different. I am getting a return visit of my granddaughters. Twice, in 7 months, pinch me I'm dreaming. Three days notice and I haven't heard if they got on the plane but I will tomorrow. I've only got them for a couple of days but that's fine.

I shopped for food and made up their bed. I may have to shut the kitchen door until their other grandparents leave and I hope no-one looks too closely at my bed where I've thrown a rug over the debris. I'm expecting a guest on January 12 so the plan was to clean the easy way. I don't do fast clean. I don't do tidy up. I have to do it from the bottom up and everything in its place before the hoovering takes over. The Hoover is now happy, it was used at last and just to make me feel bad, the belt's about to break.

The BrickOutHouse came over last night and hooked up the DVD with its surround sound and Whoa Nelly! does it belt out. Stupid me, didn't realize it also had a built in fm/am stereo radio.
So I'm off to enjoy my Stargate and The Mummy Returns before the girls take over both DVD and computer.

ONE FOR THE BOI

NEW YEAR HAPPY PRESENT FOR SHIRL

CHECK THE GOODS

How many times have I heard that and do I ever check the goods before I leave the shop, no.

I rely on honest and reliable salespeople.

I am an idiot.

When I unpacked the new DVD player today there is no remote control or instruction book.

There'll be a phone call in the morning though.

I'm desperate. I was halfway through the first episode of the first series of Stargate SG1 when my very old DVD died.

My fault, I did ask what else could go wrong.

CHRISTMAS MEME

Starting at 8.45 this morning, Insanity Central ramped it up.
I wanted to have a stroll to the bus stop because public transport was free and a stroll around less crowded shops in Mentone then a leisurely afternoon of Mother getting her presents.
I spent most of the morning on the phone sorting out her life.

She couldn't swallow her pills. The washing machine was broken. Somebody called from the housekeeping but she couldn't remember what they said.

She swallowed the pills when she put water in the glass.

The washing machine was turned off at the wall and so was the dryer which was just as well since she took the soaking washing out of the machine and put it in the dryer. I siphoned the water out of that and gingerly switched it on, good, the electrics didn't blow up.

I got her lunch, gave her the presents and a bunch of pale pink roses with a cream outer petal and received the orders for the afternoon. I'd already done most of them which always pisses her off and while she slept, I got to finish this Christmas present meme from Sunday's Age.

1. If you were feeling greedy......

The biggest most luxurious suite in my choice of hotel for two weeks with a personal chef, never ending Champagne ( a different one each day to go with the gourmet food) and a jacuzi with a view over the city to the bay.

2. If you weren't feeling greedy.....

The biggest donation ever to the Fred Hollows Foundation. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live in a third world country let alone live there without sight.

3. If you were being practical......

Made to measure granny boots. Is it still practical to have them made by Christian Louboutin?

4. If you had to share your present.......

A Gold Class Cinema for the entire day. Free food, drink and the company of bloggers but my choice of movies, I'm not that generous. I think an Indianna Jones marathon with Daffy Duck cartoon breaks. Nothing cerebral and nothing to make me cry. No mobile phones but yelling, talking and throwing jaffas allowed.

5. If you were 10 years old again......

A sugar plum fairy tutu, pale pink toe shoes and don't forget the tiara.

6. If you had a present for one day only (and then had to return it).......

I'd like to have Catherine Jenkins voice and sing every song I've ever loved. The thing is I couldn't hold a note if you put it in a jar with handles but she can.
Of course I'd have to apologize for the state it was in when I returned it.

My Christmas Day of Peace is assured. Four magazines, two novels, six DVDs, one box of chocolates and the glorious Bombay. No tofus were harmed in the making of my Christmas salad.

I DON'T DARE ASK

If anything else can go wrong or it will.

I look like having to use the dentist money for a new cistern.

The sewing machine fell apart as I put in the last stitch. The repaired one isn't due back until mid-January and then this one will go out in its place.

My broom fell apart.

The washing machine is leaking from the water hose.

The smoke alarm isn't working (you knew that).

My mother keeps asking if Christmas has been yet.

My hair along my forehead has broken off to about 2 inches from the scalp.

And I failed in my mission to bring about Peace and Goodwill to the entire planet in 2008 which means the space ship won't be picking me up on New Year's Eve. On a good note, the earthlings have taught me that when things are tough it helps to Swear. A. Lot.

And whoever is sending me the email which has already taken nearly 15 minutes to download is going to be hunted down and sacrificed to my pre-Christmas mood.

It's still only 44%. It had better be a luscious naked bloke.

I'm on dial-up remember.

Christmas is the pits.

EVERY YEAR THE SAME ADVICE

When daylight saving starts,

CHANGE THE BATTERY IN THE SMOKE ALARM!

Mine's quite dead.

I was only deepfrying Thai tofu cakes coated in sesame seeds.

Now the house looks like a set from "Backdraft".

All I want for Christmas is an exhaust fan and a rangehood and a battery.

THE COUNTDOWN

I have almost recovered. I arrived at Southland yesterday at 9.17 and got home at 2.58. I had no feet that I could feel, shoes full of pain but there were the bins to drag in and groceries to put away.

I did everything on the 23 point list I carried around like the codes to an ICBM pre-emptive strike. This included Hoover bags for mother and Sister's present for mother because she's still not talking to her but probably will by Christmas Day so would I please pick up the DVD.

No complaints about the one off payment for pensioners. I checked all my receipts and totalled the gst and the government's getting a fair whack back.

After having a good run with supertrolley at the last shop, I got to battle with its cousin renegadetrolley. I stopped halfway between the two halves of S/land to have coffee and while I was paying, my trolley disappeared. To say I was stunned doesn't begin to say how I felt. I had my purse but everything else was in there. The man said there was no one behind me so what happened? One look at the lady coming round the corner from the car park was enough. I asked if she'd seen a trolley, she pointed "That way". It had trundled down a slope in the floor, round a corner nearly wiping her out and was half way out to a loading bay when I caught up with it.

It was fine on slopes but try moving it on carpet. It wasn't my fault I knocked down several displays in JB HiFi. Trolleys, prams, people and stocked up aisles do not go well. It was an accidental knock down in Harris Scarfe as well. It was all the fault with Big W who put the fat lady knickers and bras on the bottom hooks in a very narrow spot. I bent to grab knickers, she bent to grab bras and we hit bum to bum and knocked everything flying. We apologised, she looked for my bras, I looked for her knickers and we both called Big W appropriate names.

I was extremely careful in the bottle shop though, I left the beast near the register, well away from the precious Bombay.

And after all that time, I forgot to buy the Christmas chocolates.

THE NIGHT WAS DARK AND STORMY

But the Hoover stood tall and strong.

It's still there, in the hallway. I've walked over it, tripped over it, moved it sideways but haven't used it.

Yesterday it was material and today I was sidetracked when looking for an envelope. Paper, luscious paper, hiding in the bottom drawer of the desk and I haven't been in there for ages. Basildon Bond in cream and white. Odds and ends picked up in sales, computer note paper, star spangled A4 thick card, embossed ivory A4 card and down in the dungeon, gold tissue lined cream envelopes.

I had to tidy them up. Good paper should be looked after and played with and drooled over and touched. Envelopes of all sizes and not the cheap rubbish, thick and solid, just waiting for a real pen with real ink. I have the right stamps, pink roses. The Post Office had nearly sold out but I snaffled the last book of pale pink roses in a gold heart stamps. I haven't used any yet, I was waiting for the right envelope.

After the paper was tidy, it was the turn of my ever growing pencil collection. I can throw out a ball point with no hesitation but a pencil will have to be worn to the nub before I admit defeat.
I think I might have an addiction. I have 76 pencils. Of all different hardness including white charcoal. Half aren't sharpened but the others looked a little blunt. Who would have thought that an hour could pass so pleasantly when wielding a sharp blade? You can keep your shiny kitchen floor, nothing beats a handful of nicely sharpened pencils for admiration.

We didn't have much money when I was a child and there was never any for coloured pencils so if my mother missed me when she shopped, I was easy to find in front of any pencil and paper counter. I lusted after the Derwent box. I finally bought my own about 20 years ago.

I can't draw for nuts. I can colour. My colour sense is great, my drawing sucks. When I want to paint on the jars and tins for the pantry, I iron on an embroidery transfer. Umm, shouldna tol ya that. I haven't been near the paint box, I did that last Christmas but I have painted a tin tray that was a wedding present to my mother-in-law. It's Brunswick green with gold leaf on the handles and gold leaf swirls around the edge. I'd put more on but the gold leaf paint is doing a bit of damage to the lungs, that and the glue. I'm up to painting the weetbix tin in peach. How anyone could eat weetbix out of an orange and black tin is beyond me. So it's peach and I'm using ceramic transfers as a border and painting 'weetbix' in a flowery oval.

I've been into every cupboard in this house except the pantry, that's a two week job especially the part where I have to throw out glass jars. Going in there means washing stuff, boring.

The linen cupboard gets the works on Friday because tomorrow I pick up my new towells and new sheets. I love layby.

And the Hoover still stands tall and strong.

TIS THE SEASON TO PROCRASTINATE

And I do it so well.

Why does one get so many other things done when procrastinating (using it a lot, I can spell it) about not doing the things that should be done?

I walked to the fabric cupboard this afternoon, just for one piece of material and only one so why was I still there two hours later.

I was looking at a tidy fabric shelf. Every metre neatly folded and colour coded.

Note the 'metre'. When I fancied that I might try patchwork back last century, I didn't know what a 'fat quarter' was or that you only needed smallish pieces of fabric. I went berserk and ordered everything I liked, in metres. I've made dresses and nightdresses out of this stock.

I ended up with two boxes and one book to cover and it took an hour to choose the right fabric for each one and I haven't started on the ribbons yet. I can't start the covering because it's raining again and I daren't do anymore lethal spraying in the lounge or my lungs with give out completely.

This was after I finished hand sewing the necks and cuffs on next year's winter dresses and since I won't be needing them until next winter, I'm forgetting about sewing four miles of hem until May 2009 when I discover I haven't hemmed them. I'll just pop them in dress bags and walk quietly away.

This was before my role as peace negotiator (wing it, I can't be bothered with mundane spelling) was required. Sister is still refusing to speak to mother. Mother needs something so rings me to ring her and ask. Sister sends friend across the road, that's right, across the road with the needed somethings and rings me to say what's she done. Mother rings me to say they've arrived and proceeds to complain that she's been left alone all day and hasn't eaten except for the meals on wheels dessert which was nice but she can't remember what it was and tea might be nice but it has a funny name and she hopes it doesn't taste funny and she's tired because of all the housework she'd done (que?) and which I'd forgotten to do yesterday before I rushed off and no there isn't punctuation in this because the bloody woman never drew breath.

I refuse to see anyone on Christmas Day. I'm not home. I'm going away or I'm staying home to cover the house in fabric including the doors.

BEYOND BELIEF

A trudge over this morning, another visit to the pharmacy to pick up stuff she forget to tell me about.
She looked so ill and grey I thought she might actually die.
Her breathing was shallow and she couldn't raise her head from the pillow.
I did the washing, the dishwasher and paid more bills and sat down while she slept.

At l o'clock she woke up with no memory whatsoever of anything that happened this morning.

She didn't remember the meals on wheels lady giving her a gift.
She didn't remember giving me the menu or asking me to fill it out because she couldn't lift a pencil.
She didn't remember me arriving at all.
She didn't remember me writing on the calendar who was coming to do the cleaning and what time.

She was so confused about all the housework being done that she stood in the middle of the kitchen and didn't know where to go or what to do.
So she decided to move the electric frypan, with one hand because she can't take both off the walker.

By the time my sister went across to check her tonight, she was back in rotten old bitch mode.
Hating everyone because she's not going to have the Christmas she wants.

I feel like Ingrid Bergman in 'Gaslight'.

I'VE STARTED

And not gone very far.

I hoovered the hallway.

Mother rang.

I sat down to recover sanity and fell asleep in the chair.

That is all.

MAKE PAIN YOUR FRIEND

The Karate Kid needs to re-think about that. I have pain from the soles of my feet to my kneecaps, that's real solid pain.

I woke up at 7, couldn't sleep so I hung out the washing and I couldn't see the forecast of rain and 20 degrees as it was warm then.
Wrangled the usual convoluted phone call at 8.30.
Then I was off and walking. To the chemist to pay bills, collect pills, discuss mother's medication with the pharmacist, to the bus stop for Southland and all over the shopping centre.

I officially love Dick Smith Electrics. The mouse was replaced with the more expensive model with the adapter for the same price. I'm downloading mouse software to make it move from side to side and tilt, like that's not going to play havoc with a hangover. The little beast zips enough already. I had cursors doing aerobatics until I got control.

Not so happy with Medicare. To get a rebate on a $29 pathology bill for mother, I have to front up with photo ID which means going there again with my passport. There are new rules for collecting even with Power of Attorney, they want to know what you look like. I don't know why the pathology lab didn't bulk bill the way they usually do.

Really happy with Harris Scarfe and no deposit layby which means I will never miss another bargain because I don't have the deposit. I couldn't help myself, the bargain was really a bargain and it just leapt into my waiting arms and clung there like a fluffy bunny until I plonked it on the layby counter. A real bargain since it scanned $10 lower than the bargain price and no, I didn't tell them there was a mistake. I only look stupid.

Not happy with Target who gave me a raincheck on a DVD which JB HiFi now have at $3 cheaper. That was at least 4 weeks ago and if they didn't have it, why advertise it. Going anywhere Target sends me insane. Pages and pages in their catalogue but try and find anything in store.

Big W had rubber thongs for $3 and I bought a pair because by this time I was scraping the skin off the balls of my feet.

Anyway the forecast came true, it's cold and raining now.

STUPID COMPUTER HARDWARE

I bought a new mouse.
It has a flat plug to go into a USB.
My old mouse has a round plug.
It fits the computer, the new one doesn't.
I would have known that if it hadn't been tucked away inside a layer of plastic and four tonnes of cardboard with no indication of a flat plug anywhere on the packaging.
Now I have to take it back.
I am not paying squillions to get a wireless laser zippitydodah mouse.
I'll just have to get along without the scrolling thingy.

Just to drive myself a little crazier. I plugged in the keyboard that came with the computer and remembered why I still use the $20 one from Big W.
That keyboard is free range, the one I'm using at the moment is caged.
I don't have midget type fingers. I need room to move and it has no spring in the keys. My fingers are getting sore already. It also moves on one side while the other sticks to the desk. And it's black so I can't see it in the dark.

I have blisters on my feet too.

The Universe hates me.

STILL FIGHTING WITH THE DOONA

Making the bed is not going well. Probably the glue sniffing. It's not my fault I keep finding more interesting things to do other than housework. That's the nice thing about a Hoover, it just sits in the middle of the lounge, silent and patient. It knows that sooner or later I'll have to stop kicking it aside and actually use it.

It's pissing down outside and I'm cold so I haven't turned the pilot light off in the gas fire so I can't put up the folderoles for decoration.

Laugh of the day was 'her down the back' having solar heating put up but they had to stop because of the rain.

Laugh of the week was hearing the Blight and Blonde have gotten humongously fat. Of course my spy could have been just a tad spiteful because he'd just won the Christmas ham raffle which she was hoping to win. With all his money and he's still looking to win the food raffle, his father's son all over. Fat, heart attack on legs but not her, she's already got a pacemaker, the reptile.

Okay, I'm ready to try the bed once more. Wouldn't you think someone would have had the bright idea to write top, bottom, sides on an almost square doona?

Chocolate Ripple cake very luscious and rich. I decided to freeze it but forgot to put freezer paper on the plate so now I can't get it off and the plate is frozen as well. On the other hand I did find the half dozen donuts I bought last week, nicely frozen but they thaw fast. Fancy me forgetting donuts, talk about a senior's moment.

ALWAYS KEEP A DIARY

I suppose there are some out in cyberland who think I'm exaggerating about mother and quite possibly think I'm a bitch.
I went back in my diary for this time last year and she was much nastier then. So I should be glad the old bat has slowed down and dropped a lot of the vitriol.
It still doesn't make it easier when she rings at some ridiculous hour of the morning because she didn't want to miss me before I go shopping.
I'm going shopping on Thursday but according to her that's Christmas Day, it says so on the calendar and I did say I was having to shop two days early.
By the time I untangle all this and get her to see that Christmas is two weeks away, I'm awake with only three hours sleep.
I blame lack of sleep for me putting the doona sideways into the cover and why the bed still isn't made and probably won't be until I'm ready to pass out around midnight.

THANKS KEVVIE ME OL MATE

If I hear one more person saying they hope the government knows what it's doing handing out money to pensioners, I'll scream.
The same goes to the pensioners who are getting the money but say they don't really need it.
I spent the day going through the bills I have to pay for my mother and $1,400 went in a flash.
Even with direct debits to the utilities companies and having a monthly phone bill, she's still way behind.
Of course, if she didn't get up at 5 in the morning to put the fire on for the cat, that bill would be way down. I now remind her during the 8 a.m. phone call to get up, take her pills, get breakfast and turn the bloody fire off.
The medication safety net ends on December 31 and I haven't got that bill down to zero yet.
The rates instalment is late but I'm more concerned with paying for the meals on wheels.
I don't even want to look at her credit card but there'll be a big payment on that this week. I still have issues with NAB for extending her credit limit when it was obvious she couldn't pay the amount she already owed. This was after we paid the card off twice and asked for a $2000 limit which was not to be exceeded.
After all this, she has about $300 to spend on whatever she wants and it's not much, a new nightdress, towells and some DVDs. Bring on the post Christmas sales.

I NEED SOME SPARE PARTS

I could do with two new thumbs, one leg, a set of lungs and a shoulder joint.

After shopping yesterday I put out the charity bag since the truck hadn't been and while I was out there thought I might as well do the rest of the branches.
A hour of sawing later and two minutes before lawnmower man turned up, I had the lot out. There is one left but half way through my shoulder packed up and ran inside snivelling.
The chomper is coming some time next week and if neighbour next door puts anything on that pile that isn't regulation, I'll have his nuts.

Today I was going to vaccum/vacuum, I can never remember how to spell it so both are going in, but I was sidetracked by a hatbox. The colour has been annoying me for a while so I thought I'd change it and while I was doing that one, I might as well do the other and with all this material left over, I could get that other one to match. Then there was the diary I bought yesterday. I can't write in it until it's covered in pretty material with matching ribbon. This choosing of fabric takes a while since I've got to look at it for 12 months and the ribbon has to be just right.
So there went another hour ratting around in the fabric stash.

The problem here is the glue I use. Brilliant stuff, sticks like the proverbial to a blanket and dries quickly. I had the back door open, front door open for ventilation but I was still a bit too close to the fumes. I anticipate my lungs collapsing about midnight tonight.

The material has to be pressed down with fingers, and especially thumbs. My thumbs are numbs. If I have to do anything involving opposing digits in the next 24 hours, I'm stuffed. I have a bag of potato crisps yelling for attention and I haven't the thumb strength to open it.

I also have the card table up and am painting tin things with paint that shouldn't be used without goggles and gloves and a nose mask. Guess who didn't read the label first. It's gold leaf paint and I'm using the finest brush but I reckon if I don't strike a match in the lounge room, what with the glue fumes and this, then the house will still be here for Christmas.

The fumes aren't annoying my leg, dropping a log on it did that. I have bruises on my bruises. And now my mouse isn't scrolling. And Telstra are going to make me pay if the line fuckiness is on my side when it's their fault for having crappy lines that dangle in trees.

There is a plus, I made a fruit salad of mango, strawberries, bananas, menindee grapes and apricots which is far too healthy so I'll just crumble a few musk sticks over the top fortunately I opened the packet yesterday and I don't need thumbs to use a spoon.

MADE IT

The ART bill has been passed by both houses of Parliament and look, the sky hasn't fallen.
Both mothers in a relationship will be able to legally be parents to their children. The sky still hasn't fallen.
Ted Bailleau isn't happy but a big thank you to Robert Smith for this speech.

In his speech in support of the ART Bill Robert Smith said,"I want to make mention of one of the things that, I have to be honest, changed my mind on this whole debate. On the day the lesbian lobbyists came into the Parliament with their children, I ran into them in the vestibule and took the opportunity to introduce myself and welcome them to the Parliament. I said a stupid thing to them: 'Go and enjoy the debate'. How could anyone enjoy this debate?I thought, 'You fool!', but unfortunately I could not take back the statement. The impact it had on me -- not confronting but meeting these women and their children face to face -- was profound. It drove home to me the fact that we are dealing with real people and real children, here and now. They exist. "

TROLLEY PRAISING

I never thought I would be praising a shopping trolley but today I had the Rolls Royce of shoppers.

I strolled up the aisle towards the magazines, looked over the shoulder of the bird flipping pages of the mag I wanted, made a mental note not to buy that particular one and then realized it was someone I knew and had vowed not to speak to again in my lifetime.

I did the fastest and best U-turn ever seen in Safeway. I mean that trolley sailed like it had a winged keel and I was in the next aisle with one foot still in the air.

The next aisle was a problem though......biscuits! Shelves and shelves of biscuits. Before I knew it my hand was full of chocolate ripple biscuits and super trolley was heading for the whipped cream section. Chocolate ripple cake. I haven't had Chocolate ripple cake since Noah served it on the Ark.

Thank the Goddess, Annie O'Dyne and I have not pledged to be diet buddies until after Christmas.

GET ORGANISED FOR CHRISTMAS

At this time of the year I can't go past any magazine that has a Christmas cover. I'm never going to cook the food or make the decorations but I just can't resist. Notebook had this great checklist for the six weeks before Christmas but by the time I bought it, I'd missed week six and week five and week four has nearly passed on.

Four Weeks to Go
Stock the Pantry with staples.
They didn't specify staples. What are my staples? Pasta sauce, pasta, lentils and tomato soup. I was going to say not very Christmassy but they're all red.
Clean the Barbecue, oven and fridge.
Oh I'm hurting from the ROFL'ing. The BBQ is long gone in one of my New Year's Eve deconstructs of things belonging to the Blight. I can't remember the last time I cleaned the oven if I ever did and I'm not cooking beast or fowl so I'll let that slide. The only thing holding the fridge together and keeping the freezer meltwater from flooding, is the mould. I'm all for ecosystems.
Check your decorations and fairy lights and replace any broken globes.
Decorations are still in the pine box. Christmas tree is in the cupboard. Fairy lights are never ever never going to be put up again. My idea for fairy lights is to capture a brood of fairies, douse them in petrol, set fire to them and let them run all over the roof on Christmas Eve. Now that's what I call fairy lights.
Organise a house-cleaning day for the whole family to pitch in.
Oh dear, I'm ROFL'ing again. I'm good for this, I folded up the towells today instead of grabbing one off the couch every time I had a shower. I sprayed a fly and killed it. I took the garbage bins out. Damn, the washing's still in the dryer, a woman's work is never done.

Three weeks to go.
Post Christmas Cards.
Send free Christmas emails from Optus.
Order a fresh tree if required.
Still have plenty of branches from the one I cut down last week.
Decorate the tree and the house.
Stand cut branches in a bucket of sand/cement/polyfiller and paint gold. Spray cobwebs silver.
Start putting popcorn in the fairy traps.
Order fresh flowers for Christmas Day.
Can I eat them? No. Flowers out.
Launder or air table linen for Christmas Lunch or dinner.
Nice idea. If I could just remember what table linen looked liked and remembered how to eat off a table.
Start wrapping presents to place under the tree.
One bottle of expensive perfume wrapped by David Jones. One extremely large box of chocolates wrapped by Myer. The Gin is unwrapped ready for action.
Sort through your music collection or compile CDs for entertaining.
Forget the music. I'm all for a StarWars viewing marathon and no carols. By Christmas Day I'll have had carols up to the wazoo and I've got a big wazoo.

Two weeks to go.
Set aside an evening for the family to do something festive together, such as watch old Christmas movies or attend a local carols performance.
See what I mean about the carols. I've never seen a better recipe for a pre-Christmas massacre than this suggestion.
Purchase supplies for making Christmas drinks.
Okay, now we're in business. Gin, diet tonic water, Gin, Coke Zero, Gin.
Purchase all non-perishable ingredients.
Bendy straws so I don't have to life my head too far.

One week to go.
Write a food preparation schedule for Christmas Day.
Open Gin and diet tonic water.
Open Chocolates.
Open Fridge and see what falls out first.
Collect flowers or have them delivered to your home.
Forget the flowers, check the fairy traps.
Pick up turkey no more than two days before Christmas Day.
Forget the turkey, check the fairy traps.
Collect seafood the day before it's required.
Forget the seafood, check the fairy traps.
Ensure digital cameraas are fully charged and ready to use.
Wouldn't want to miss the fairy lights.

I SEE RICHES IN MY FUTURE

I was stuck in Target yesterday, in the middle of the toy department, by shoppers. My fault for taking the wrong aisle to layby but the place is so maze-like I expected to see the goblet of fire any minute.

Trapped in the doll section, not even in the action man section.

I see a niche in the market for a specialty doll.

A man doll that comes with detachable equipment.

The excitement of Christmas morning as the lonely divorcee sits beside the tree, ripping off the parts and jamming them back. Upside down, sideways, up its nose, dipping parts in boiling water and watching them droop. Sticking great big needles through the sensitive bits.

I could install a voice box that screams and begs for mercy.

I'll make my fortune.

IT'S ME STATE OF MIND, YOU SEE

Headline from my ABC science e-mail updates,

"Are redheads really doomed?"

Damn, is there anything else the world can throw at me?
I mean fat, morbidly obese, old, decrepit and now my red hair dooms me.

Imbecile!

I forgot I merely enhance my natural state of mousiness with chemicals.

IT'S TOUCHDOWN OR MELTDOWN, I HAVEN'T DECIDED YET

As if I haven't got enough trouble with MM (tm) who rings at strange hours with stranger stories and then says she's going to sleep now but always wakes up to start the cycle again.

The weather. I know it's Melbourne and it's still spring and we can have 48 season changes in 24 hours but give me a break.

Sun and warmth this morning so I hauled the kingsize wool filled doona out to the line for a sunbake which is supposed to kill all manner of germs, mites and mould that are using it for b&b.

Suddenly it's all cloud and rumblings and not my stomach but actual thunder. Damn I'm in the middle of another batch of leaf bundles (bloody council) and I have to gallop, well, hurry quite as fast as the tin knees will carry me round to the line.

I'm having a problem with the Hills Hoist. It has developed a lean to one side and has decided to rotate only one way. Bolshie bloody Hills. So the doona is on the opposite side to me and I reach up a give the line a good swing to bring it round to starboard. It rebounds like a whale researcher off a Greenpeace protester and nearly takes my head, arm and fingernails. AND it's raining AND lightning AND thundering and I'm trying not to drop the doona in the bindii that masquerades as a lawn.

I have scratches from branches, bruises from tree trunks and insults from the Hills and Mother.
I am an inch away from hiding under the bed until next year. If it wasn't for Kevvie's promised loot which I now intend to spend entirely on gin and chocolate, I'd be going under except I haven't vac'd under there for a loooooong time and I wouldn't want to disturb the ecosystem.

I had one of those nights this week when I didn't want to put my feet out of the bed. We all have those nights, don't we, don't we, right?

PEER STUPIDITY

I read the article in the Sunday Herald Sun and it really got up my nose.

12 girls from a college have gone to Phillip Island for a week to celebrate their end of school and the end of their livers by the sound of it. They've vowed to spend more than $1000 on alcohol in their week long binge and they're proud to be setting a drinking record.

One of them said she had to drive at 80km/h in third gear because of all the alcohol on board the car. She also said older people should not be surprised at the girls' level of drinking because they probably did the same when they were 18.

Another of the bunch claimed her biggest night was two bottles of rum, a bottle wine and half a slab of pre-mixed rum and cola cans. Even my ex at his best couldn't have loaded that up although he certainly tried every December.

There was a nice photograph of the girls behind a load of full and empty bottles. I hope their parents went down and kicked their backsides but I suppose that's where the money came from in the first place.

That came on top of information of a new, to me, misuse of over the counter painkillers. A look in my bedside drawer showed, Panadeine Extra, Panadeine Forte, Panadeine, Diclofenac and Oxycontin, a slow release morphine medication. I'd say the Oxycontin was way out of date now and should be ditched since it was for a pinched Sciatic nerve which I would put at 11 out of 10 on the pain scale. Diclofenac I take every night or I feel as though my hands have been in a vice in the morning. The others I take according to severity of various pains and aches that come and go. I found out that teenagers and up are taking Nurofen plus and Panadeine Forte, not in the two I take but up to and beyond 8 a day, packets of them.

This is not from any official report but from two people I know. They take them to feel numb. They take them to sleep life away, to not deal with it. They're not drug addicts because they can walk in and buy them from a pharmacy. Their livers are damaged and magnesium levels are so low they can't make it back up without supplements. They're nice young people but they can't cope with life, they haven't coped with life since their early teens and they're not the only ones using these medications for the wrong reason. Word spreads fast along the teenage grapevine.

Alcohol and pills at 18. Sorry little Miss Piss-up of Phillip Island 2008 but I am surprised.

NOT A LOL, A GUFFAW OUT LOUD

more animals

EARLY MORNING RISER

There I was this morning, in bed, warm, just had an early morning pee, settling in for another hour's sleep. You know that sleep where you just drift away in a cocoon because it's warm and you're empty.

RING RING

Me: What?

Ma: What time is it? I can't seem to make out what the clock's doing.

Me: 7 bloody 15.

Ma: Now I can see what it says.

Me: I bought you a clock with big letters, what's wrong with it?

Ma: It ticks too loud.

Me: @%*~^

Ma: I think I got up before but I can't remember if I pressed the button and if I didn't do that then I didn't put the fire on for the cat.

Me: Terrific, we owe $400 on the gas bill and you're putting it on for the cat.

Ma: Well I do have my breakfast in there. Is it cold? What does the sky look like? My blinds aren't open.

Me: It's grey, it's cold and storms are forecast.

Ma: I'll be cold, I'd better put the fire on. CLUNK.

And after that I got up and cut down the last branch before the predicted storm. It was so top heavy with spindly branches and leaves I could barely drag it through the double gates. After that I went back to bed for a very long time.

I hurt now, again.

5.05 pm and it still hasn't stormed.

THE STATE OF THE HOUSE/OWNER REPORT

We're both a little cracked up.

I'm trying to remember what happened to Tuesday and Wednesday.

I know what happened today. Thank you to fcuknuckle taxi driver who nearly killed me. He made a right hand turn and didn't even look to the left, where I was looking. The old man in the other car had good reflexes and turned into the kerb with his foot firmly on the brake and a prayer in his heart. My driver, and I use the term loosely, never blinked or turned his head. Apparently he can't read numbers either as he sailed past my two numbered bins, a numbered curb and a numbered fence before he pulled up. I waited until he was out of sight before I called him a camel jockey. I might get him again.

Yesterday I was in the garden all day. I have had trouble with the phone and internet cutting out but before Telstra comes out to check the line I have to make sure my trees aren't flinging the wires about. They were, even though the trouble is where the line is attached to the pole across the road. The branches weren't thick so no problem cutting through except for the delicate digits not up to the job or the knees not taking kindly to standing on a pile of rocks. It was the leaves all at the top. Cut the branches and they stayed in place so I had to pull them down without bringing the line as well. Swearing was mandatory.

Her Next Door heard the swearing and asked if I needed help, after the fact, dumb bloody woman. I think she's cut down her camelias along the fence which is bad news for me since her overwatering is good for my camelia. Now I have to mulch it and use my own water. Some people are so inconsiderate.

Then the usual crap of tying them together in small bunches with cotton and having the cut ends all pointing to the gutter edge in neat rows so two burley blokes with a bloody great machine can come and chomp them in two seconds. I hate this council and my protest continues with me paying my rates fortnightly as I want not as they want.

There's still one branch to go but I needs me a chain saw. Why will no-one lend me a chain saw? It's okay now, I've divorced him, there'll be no problem. Why also the high cost of Dettol? I used a gallon on all the scratches on my arms and I have blisters.

The study light globe has blown again and the replacement new fangled globe appears to be too thick to screw in. Bugger it.

There appears to be an earwig plague.

The magpies are using my bird bath as a spa and life style centre.

Scoria rocks can be heavy so if one decides to roll them with a foot one must make sure one rolls them right up the slight slope otherwise they roll back and crush one's foot.

Scoria rocks are a refuge for flat scaley beetles, earwigs and spiders. I hope I crushed a few of them.

I hurt now. I was meant to be a princess not a peasant.

VICTORIA'S SECRET ANNUAL PUPPY SHOW

Adriana Lima is wearing the Black Diamond Fantasy Miracle Bra worth $5 million. It's sewn with black and white diamonds and rubies. It's for sale, Woot.

Heidi Klum wears diamond chains linking her two pieces of Victoria's Secret red almostjustaboutnearlythere bra and knickers. I like the Christmas bow theme.

I reckon Annie O'Dyne's outfit and mine for Halloween rivalled these for class if not in cash.

I've only published these photos for the Chair of the Fleetwood Jug Appreciation Society. Oops, the society is for the other kind of jugs, my abject apologies, I'll take down the pics if there are complaints.

IT'S MONDAY AND IT'S HALFWAY THROUGH NOVEMBER

Disasters in all directions.
Two clocks ran the batteries down this morning so I'm not early I'm late.
Get to the front gate and realize I can't go on. Mumzilla is waiting for me.
Realize I can go on by going to the pub where I'll meet sister who's on holidays and probably picking up winnings from Saturday.
Ring Taxi instead of walking.
Find sister at the first pokie machine on the right.
"Pull up a chair" says she. "I've only got Ma's phone money" say I.
"It's a hard road" says she, "use it and call it travelling money."
It was well travelled by the time I'd lost the lot and wandered down to the madhouse.
I should have used it to travel to Darwin.

She is surprised it's November. "Have I missed September?"
She was sick yesterday because she had sausages for tea at 1 o'clock. Don't even try to work that out, it's futile.

"There's washing in the sewing room." Stupid me thought it was washed washing because washed washing is usually in the sewing room for me to fold up. This time it's washing to be washed and yelling is heard along with swearing and banging of washing basket.

BrickOutHouse has the dryer full and the washing machine full from the weekend. I put the dryer on for another half hour, drag his wet washing across the road to sister's dryer and load up Ma's clothes.

So I'm standing there folding up his clothes on the washing machine waiting for it to finish and I notice the sink is filling up with water, to the top with water.
Fetch the plunger from under another pile of his dirty clothes and attack the sink.
It appears that no-one has bothered to empty the lint bag in the washing machine for quite some time so the overflow of sock debris is down the pipe, miles down the pipe.

BrickOutHouse arrives home and says my yelling is hurting his migraine. I stop yelling to think about using the plunger to see if he has enough brain to have a migraine.

Thursday I will pay the phone bill because I have ethics, bugger it.
More trouble, I have only enough gin for tonight and the gin money will have to go on the phone bill, bugger it.

PERFUME

My perfume of choice, the one I go back to every time I wander off with some alluring cheap scent in a pretty bottle that promises everything and delivers nothing.

Yves Saint Laurent's Opium.
A soft oriental. A delicious liquid cloud of incense, amber, spices and flowers. It's not as sweet or as heavy as a true oriental but its combination of rose, carnation, sandalwood, pepper, lily of the valley and clove makes me feel happy (and thin and wealthy).

YSL's Opium Pour Homme.
A quarter of the price of women's perfume or half depending on which fragrance counter I'm currently haunting.
It's a fresh oriental. It has vanilla, black currant, star anise, galangal, ginger and sichuan pepper.
It has woody undertones of Tolu balsam and Atlas cedar.

With no-one around to put this under lock and key which they do whenever I approach the women's Opium tester. I mean it's for testing, right, and that's what I'm doing, testing to see if it's fresh. I just happen to do it every time I go shopping. They shouldn't put it out for testing if they don't want it tested.

So there I was, in front of a full bottle of Opium Pour Homme and no-one to ruin the testing. So here I am now, thinking that if I run into a bloke who smells this good, my run as a born-again virgin will be at an end. There won't be much of him left either. Mind you it might'n smell as good on a male as it does on me. Top notes were nice, middle notes, a bit strong but now the bottom notes are mellowing into a vanillaryspicy
Iwanttoripyourclothesoffandlockyouinthebedroomforaweek type of fragrance.

Now to make it much better, they should remove Mr. Luscious from the Nautica aftershave gift box and put him with Opium Pour Homme. That's a package I'd welcome under the Christmas tree 52 weeks of the year.

I think I have to have a shower, I'm drooling over my arm and falling in lust with myself.

BURMA STILL A CESSPIT FOR GENERALS

The new Avon catalogue is out and I do love a browse even though most of their trash is now made in China.

They are advertising a new ring with cubic zirconias and a pear shaped ruby and my Avon lady was sure I'd love to buy that. She got too much information on where China buys its rubies.

Fortunately she's used to me asking the hard questions about where the goods are manufactured and which ones turn up at the $2 Emporium.

Which brings me to this blog entry about the latest raw deal for dissidents.

No rubies for me.

Also Stephen Conroy can stick his restrictions on internet use in his right ear.

I FEEL DOOM APPROACHING

I feel it creeping closer and that's the doom apart from the usual November "Oh God it's nearly Christmas where can I hide" doom.

I've just spent two days with mother. Thank you doctor's office who didn't call yesterday to tell me he'd be coming today. That's two days of getting a urine sample into a small bottle, too much information? Try doing it instead of reading about it.

Anyhow, Rheumatoid arthritis is making her right ankle disintegrate. If that goes, she's bedridden and I go there all the time (kill me now) or it's a nursing home. She will fight tooth and nail against leaving home.

She's not capable of making a rational decision about this and I tell you, neither am I.

PAY PEANUTS - GET MONKEYS

From today's Age newspaper about the Assisted Reproductive Treatment Bill which is coming up for the last hurdle in the Legislative Council on Tuesday.

"Many are privately complaining of being fatigued by social reform bills. Recently the upper house has had to deal with issues of abortion, stem cells and euthanasia. "It's taken an enormous amount out of us," one Liberal MP told the The SundayAge.

WHAT ARE WE PAYING YOU BASTARDS FOR?

I'm so sorry that these important issues are a strain on your pathetic little brains. These issues are important and they're not going to go away because the members can't handle social reforms.

NOT FOR A HANDFUL OF ARGYLE PINKS

That's a 41 foot high wave at a secret surfing location.

I have it set as wall paper and it frightens the life out of me.

And that's surfer Kerby Brown about to have the biggest wipeout of his career.

You'd have to be crazy.

THE NIGHT WAS DARK

It was dark but not stormy but the wind was whistling through the window.
I was dreaming about my father and it isn't the first time this week that he's been in my dreams.
I can never remember the dreams just that he was in them and they aren't dreams full of sunbeams and light. They're always dark.
It might be just that I think of him a lot around Spring Racing Carnival.
But like I said, the dreams are dark.
So I woke up out of one last night and tried to grab hold of the image before it slipped away.

When my eyes were fully opened, I could see a glow near my dressing table, a golden glow.
I'm not one to get spooked much, not a lot unless I've been watching Dean in Supernatural.
The glow didn't move, just sat there glowing, with me watching.
Me thought it would be a good idea to put my glasses on to get a good look at the glow.

Stupid bloody glow-in-the-dark hair comb.

THE RUG SHE IS FINISHED

Yes, yes, yes, at long last. I measured it in its finished state and no wonder it weighs a ton, 94 inches by 67 inches which is a lot bigger than in the pattern but exactly the same 600 squares. Now I have to find someway to photograph it.
Forget the rules about blocking it with a damp cloth and just the hands. I ran a steam iron over it on a very low setting.

A new iron is going on my shopping list now. When the last one died from old age, I decided to buy a cheap one for the few bits of ironing that I can't get out of. False economy, never do it.

There are no descriptions on the temperature dial except max and min. The water tank is so small it adds time to ironing by having to fill it constantly. The cord isn't long enough unless you're sitting on the power point. And there's no heat in it. It's heat not hard pressing that irons clothes.

So I'm looking for wattage, long cord, temperature details, ergonomic design and getting it on sale would be a bonus. I don't need an ironing board. The Matron of Honour at my wedding bought me that and it's outlasted the marriage, the husband and her friendship.

TRIVIA NIGHT

Here are some words for your next trivia night.

OTOLITH. Give up? It's an ear bone of a fish made of calcium carbonate and protein that helps fish maintain their balance. As the fish grows, its otoliths form sequential rings like a tree trunk, corresponding to different times in the fish's life. The chemical makeup of each ring tells us where the fish had been living durng that time period.

PHONOLITE. A type of lava that rings when struck with a hammer.

Sometimes I read the strangest articles.

I JUST CAN'T SEEM TO GET ABOVE GROUND

Looking down the 3,100ft underground shaft of the cave near the village of Tian Xing in China.

Looking up is just as impressive. The photographer is Robert Shone of Manchester.

The world's deepest cave is Krubera in Georgia, which is 6,822ft deep followed by
Lamprechtsofen in Austria 5,354ft and Gouffre Mirolda in France 5,335ft.

To compare, the world's tallest peak Mount Everest is 29,029ft high.

I don't know why I keep finding caves to post. You couldn't get me underground if you paid me. I get claustrophobic when the lights go out in a picture theatre.

WHAT A SWELEGANT ELEGANT PARTY IT WAS

It was a great night but I nearly didn't make it. Damn I need to diet. That costume fitted where it touched and it wasn't touching much. That's not a thong I'm wearing they're full size cottontails disappearing into those buns. But I had great hair.

Sedgwick was into the fun and came in costume but got overexcited and made a perfect beast of himself. Thank the Goddess for Hot Andrew who is a whizz with ropes and knots (we never ask and he won't tell) and had him under control in no time or the party could have been over before it started.

Our lovelyAnnie O'Dyne came armed for bear but those weapons were nearly needed for bigger prey, with wings. Aren't her tatts just the most? Eat your heart out Angelina.

Lord Hughes came as the Eagle of the Ninth Legion but just couldn't keep his talons to himself. The lovelyBella gave him a swift knee to the tail feathers and he was banished to sit amongst the pumpkins with the still rampaging Sedgwick.

While the drama went on overhead, Caroline rode in on Luke, also in costume as a battle horse.

Perhaps I should have specified 'no pets' on the invitations but Jayne had her friend from the garden club under strict control having fed him several trick or treaters before she left home.

And a glow of starlight from the west brought the Muriels in to party. Fortunately Lord Hughes was still fighting with Lord Sedgwick in the pumpkins so they were able to land without problems.

A zephyr from the north brought our Middle Child and a fairy friend for company.

A swirl around our ankles and River flowed by in a costume of strategically placed lotus blossoms.

We all felt a tremor in the force so knew Robbbert had arrived in his usual guise as the invisible man but Middle Child's fairy scattered glitter to the wind in the trees and we caught a glimpse of our mystery guest.

Davo sent his apologies. He's spending Halloween sailing the Cape of Storms with The Flying Dutchman.

Phil is in a car with no brakes and racing to beat the Devil.

I have to go and lie down now. Somebody has taken my head in exchange for a pumpkin which is lying heavily on my shoulders. I'm surprised we have any pumpkins left. The mess an eagle and a beast can make while whooping it up is unbelievable. You're all invited to Halloween next year, leave the pets at home.

UNDERSEA EXPLOSIONS

These jagged bits of volcanic glass are the leftovers of pyroclastic explosions which scientists didn't think could happen two and a half miles deep on the Arctic Ocean seafloor. The water pressure at this depth was thought to inhibit this kind of eruption but the pyroclastic fragments means that an explosive blast of carbon dioxide was released.

Think of the Chaiten Volcano which erupted recently in Chile with that huge plume of gas and rock and put it underwater.

Analysis of some of the shards showed them to be bits of glass known as limu o Pele, or "Pele's seaweed". These are formed when lava is stretched thin around expanding gas bubbles during an explosion. Scientists collected rock and sediment samples and high definition videos showed shards and bits of basalt over the seafloor with some deposits on top of new lavas an indication the debris had fallen rather than been moved as part of a lava flow.


This is the 10 square kilometre area on the Gakkel Ridge, a mostly unexplored region of the Mid-Ocean Ridge where evidence of the explosive eruptions were gathered. Researchers named the small craters Loke, Oden and Thor. They are now looking at whether pyroclastic eruptions instead of the slow flowing Hawaiian lava type eruptions are common in the deep sea or it's because of special conditions along the Gakkel Ridge.

For the climate change deniers, this volcanic activity has nothing to do with the Polar ice melting faster than usual. The stratified waters of the Arctic Ocean can absorb and disperse any heat and gas from an eruption on the seafloor. Cold dense water in the depths are trapped near the bottom with little mixing with warmer surface layers. Almost no heat is transmitted to the underside of the Polar ice from approximately 3,ooo to 4,000 metres below.

ALMOST THERE

600 little crocheted squares.

20 rows across.

30 rows down.

All crocheted together now.

Four rows of double crochet around the edge and it's done.

Bloody thing measures 6 feet by 4 feet.

Because it's going to bushfire country, it's all pure wool, just in case.

Four rows of double crochet, just four more rows but hot damn it looks good.

FROSTY

This was taken yesterday in Aberdeenshire. Snowing in October, it's not even winter yet. The birds are staying in Siberia because it's warmer than England.

THE CRYSTAL CAVE IN ITS GLORY

THE CRYSTAL CAVE

The cave is located deep inside Naica Mountain in the Chihauhuan Desert of Mexico. The mountain sits on a set of fault lines over a magma chamber two and a half kilometres below. This chamber sends superhot metal-rich fluids circulating throughout the mountain making the walls glow red.

The veins of lead, silver and zinc have been mined since the early 20th Century. The deeper levels of the mine are flooded so the miners pumped them dry and in 2000, Juan and Pedro Sanchez broke through a tunnel into this cavern.

The gypsum crystals started out in hot water saturated with calcium sulphate but as the magma began to cool about 600,000 years ago the minerals precipitated out of the solution and began to grow. The growth was extremely slow and researchers will be looking at how long it took for a crystal of 37.4 feet to reach that length, how old is the cave and why have many of the crystals fallen to the floor.

They are looking for signs of life that survive in extreme environments. Inside some of the crystals are fluid inclusions that may contain microbial DNA. One researcher is using a Raman spectrometer which beams light into the crystals then analyses the reflected light for wavelengths characteristic of organic life.

The orange jumpsuits worn by the team are specially designed and packed with ice as the cave has a temperature of around 49 degrees Celsius and over 80 percent humidity making it deadly to explore. One scientist said even with the suit they had about half an hour before feeling the effects, losing concentration and bodily strength.