VERY HARD TO BLOG ABOUT LIFE

I'm suffering from the 'Bambi' Complex, if you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all.

I have a sharp tongue that could blister paint from the Sydney Harbour Bridge and I'd feel right at home on that planet of Frank Herbert's where they use words to kill.

So internalising the anger that's threatened to destroy what's left of our small family has left me with a heart attack in my future and a tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.

Suffice to say, I could slap my sister 6 ways from Sunday and boot the BrickOutHouse into the Monday after.

I am allowed to give my mother money to spend when she goes out for coffee and you standing there with a cigarette ($21 a packet?) is so hypocritical.
I do have to go through her things carefully and slowly since no-one wants to help except to hire a skip and chuck the lot.
I will not throw out her clothes in case she wants to wear a particular one she remembers.
Telling me I let her overspend on bed linen while you're making off with the doona covers, the new duckdown doona and her pillow cases (40 of them so you tell me later) earned you a mental kicking.
Tellling me you want the mess out of the house when your wardrobe is the lounge room floor went down a treat.
Sorry you're whacked because you've been carting out stuff for the hard rubbish for hours but didn't I tell you to start putting it in the carport weeks ago?

I could go on but the tranqulizers are kicking in and I'm starting to mellow.

IT'S BEEN A STRESSFUL DAY

I need de-stressing and lilac fairies aren't going to do it.



Doing a wax job on those pits would certainly help so would pulling the hairs out one by one with a pair of tweezers. Nice eyes, very calming.

Definitely calm now. The Welsh stud muffin always does it. I'll just splash the water onto his shirt ala Mr. Darcy and help him out of those nasty wet jeans. Very calming. Only one thing missing, where's me gin and tonic.

Hello Mr Rudd, yes, I'm one of those disreputable tarts on welfare who've just crawled in from the pokies and is slightly pissed because I drank beer and gambled (didn't lose, broke even). I did pay the bills first and buy food. Chocolate and pavlova were on special, go down a treat with the gin and lime which I remembered after I'd paid for the beer. Paying for beer when I had free gin at home, more than slightly pissed, my father would be ashamed of me forgetting about free booze.

It was all go at the home this morning. Gossip group in the kitchen making shortbread with my mother leading the pack. After lunch was Bingo and tomorrow they're all off, wheelchairs and all, to Mordialloc Pier to eat fish and chips and fight off the seagulls. If the weather is too chilly, it's back in the train and head for La Porchetta.

She also insulted me, I think, yes she did. She wants cotton knickers, mine. According to her I have a bigger bum than she does and so I'll have nicely stretched them and she won't have to struggle getting them on. I'm sure there's an insult in there somewhere. I dealt with that the way I deal with all weighty matters, I had a vanilla slice the size of a city block. Bloody woman.

MY KIND OF SHOE

There's nothing like a shoe box full of surprises and this one is a beauty. Piper Heidsiek Brut and a crystal Louboutin shoe to drink it from. It was supposed to be the epitome of love to drink Champagne from your latest floozie's slipper but it always seemed to me to be a waste of good booze. This is better but I hope Posh Beckham doesn't see it, I wouldn't put it past her to try walking in a pair.

THE TROJAN HORSE IDEA

The large orange bit is an amoeba and it's using a false foot called a pseudopod to reel in a bacterium, green bit. The bacterium is Legionella pneumophila and is the cause of Legionnaires' Disease but instead of being digested by the amoeba, it stays safely inside this 'trojan horse'.

Scientists began using the term about 15 years ago to describe Legionella pneumophila, the bacteria eventually traced as the cause of the mysterious disease that broke out among people attending an American Legion convention in Philadelphia in 1976. It sickened 221 people and killed 34.

Epidemiologists traced the cause back to water in air-conditioning tanks on the roof of the building where the Legionnaires were meeting, but they still had trouble finding Legionella within that water. It turns out that high concentrations of Legionella were living within the protists that lived in the tanks.

Legionella were reproducing within these protists and coming out in small aggregates that became airborne in water droplets. Susceptible people breathed in high concentrations of Legionella that had just come out of their hosts and were looking for new hosts.

The image is from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention and Dr. Barry S. Fields.

LACE, LACE AND MORE LACE

I never thought I would get tired of looking at lace but another week of sleeping with it, stepping over it and trying to fit it in one cupboard might just do it.

My mother must have cornered the market on pins, needles and safety pins. They're in everything, jars, boxes, pin cushions and take a tip from me, never use a pin cushion that doesn't have a hard bottom. The sewing needles disappear into the soft ones and picking them up the wrong way is a surefire recipe for punctured fingers.
If my money does run out, I can always dress like a gypsy and go door to door selling pins and ribbons.

So today was my day for getting a handle on this Agoraphobia which I didn't realize was as bad as it is. I was pretty wonky going to Bendigo but I think I fooled everyone by not passing out so who would have thought getting around Mentone would have me hyperventilating and leaning against fences. I've lived here all my life so it's not unfamiliar, it's just out of the 3km range that's been my lot for the past 3 years. This morning I decided to take a bus to Dingley, not far but I haven't been there for a long time. Walking to the stop was a joy since I think I might have broken my toe last night wandering around in the dark but I put on the granny stompers and made it okay. Toe was nicely purple when I took the sneaker off though.

I always thought teenagers and mobile phones were a pain but four 30 somethings in the coffee shop were all shouting on their phones, talking to each other and drinking coffee. I had mine outside, in the open air, so far so good. Caught the bus home but should have got off at the DFO and walked through the park as the next stop meant 15 minutes of waiting to cross Centre Dandenong road but there were no hard rubbish collections in the park to fossick through. Pickings were slim this year but I did find two brand new wicker baskets. The house is full of rubbish and I couldn't resist two wicker baskets.

Next week I might try going to Oakleigh by bus and getting a train back which means changing at Caulfield. Of course, it's not a good idea to fight this while cutting back on the anxiety medication but as long as there's a cake shop where I can self medicate with food, I'm okay. It's a shame I'm trying to diet as well.

If you happen to see a fat redhead re-breathing CO2 from a cake bag, say hello, it's me.

THE HARVEST MOON

This brilliant photograph was taken by Jimmy and Linda Westlake. It shows the brightest full moon known as the Harvest Moon and the moon itself is photographed through Yellowstone National Park's Old Faithful geyser. You know the drill, click to get the best view.

Daylight saving starts tomorrow and I'm not ready.

I DARE YOU TO CUT THE CAKE

When I really need a laugh, I pop over to cakewrecks .

There is no way I could take a cake knife to Bullwinkle. The eyes are so realistic I can practically see Rocket J. Squirrel mirrored in them.

NOT MUCH FIRE LEFT IN THE OLD BOILER

Just one I'd forgotten to publish. It can't be for walking in, it's just a work of art and look at the single thorn on the heel to compliment the rose theme. It's Bruno again, designing for Roger Vivier. I think to keep it on you'd have to get some polident for the feet, just like keeping dentures from falling on the footpath.

I'm really tired. How tired? I walked into the kitchen and had to think hard about what I'd just eaten for tea.

Mother has her new Homeyped dusty rose slippers, size 12. I was a bit dodgy about the 12 but with the arthritis her feet are very swollen in the joints and the size was just right. Sight of the day was Ma trying to lift her foot to show the other ladies how pretty they were. Pretty like the above, not quite, more like the QEII docking in the wheel chair.

So that's two days out in a row. One more bag full of odments to take down there and then I'm removing myself from her sight for one whole week. The slave is breaking the chains. Freedom is so hard to get used to and I'm the only one who knows where everything is in the house but the last is packed including the rolling pin for the activities sessions. She was hinting how much they need a food processor, did I need mine, bloody hell, yes.

My house is full of her house and I need to separate the two but first I'd like a whole day in bed with the sun streaming in and chocolate to eat and books to read. Three out of four is possible since I'm half way through the chocolate and it's not going to last until tomorrow.

Two relo's have dropped off the twig in the past fortnight. Ma said if she hadn't been somewhere nice, it could have been her.

Nothing - I'm saying nothing - Nothing.

FRISONI 11

Just one more from dear Bruno. I am such a sucker for shoes with bows and this is the bow of bows. If only he would make me a pair with Louis IV heels, I'm getting vertigo just looking at the height of this ankle cracker.

FRISONI

On the 2nd June, 1953 Princess Elizabeth was crowned Queen Elizabeth 11. Under her heavily beaded dress she was wearing a pair of custom made Roger Vivier gold leather kidskin shoes. He inlaid the heels with rubies and the upper was inspired by the fleurs-de-lis on the St. Edward Crown and the Imperial State Crown worn by the Queen.

Now in 2009, Bruno Frisoni has a new range of shoes inspired by that coronation shoe. Fuschia, gold and black, my favourite colours.

I have to admit I love this red shoe, and the jewells and dangly beads. The thought of wearing it, even for a few minutes brings back memories of the acute pain of walking in stilletto heels.

THEIR SECRET IS OUT OF THE CLOSET

Damn cockroaches, I always knew they had an ace up their feelers.

The little swines can hold their breath for up to 7 minutes.

They use air filled tubes called trachea to deliver oxygen directly to cells.
The trachea while delivering oxygen also carries water vapour out of the cells so they stop breathing to conserve water.

Investigating this meant examining cockroach breathing (I would so want a lot of loot to do that) under different conditions of oxygen, carbon dioxide and humidity. In dry air they opened their spiracles (air valves) for less time so they didn't lose as much water.

This proves that cockroaches resistant to pesticides could simply be holding their breath.

I knew it!

The only way to kill the little rotters is to bash them with the can of roach spray and finish them off with an iron bar.

Never mind a nuclear blast, it looks like they'll love climate change.

The one on the right is called Robert and the one on the left is called Robbert.

GASP SHOCK HORROR

MY MOTHER'S PLAYING BINGO!

I blame Robbbert.

I COULD ONLY EAT HAIGH'S CHOCOLATES FROM THIS SERVING DISH

This was for the last post but blogger only relented when I signed the terms of service box and I haven't a clue what I signed away, probably my soul. I usually loathe tattoos but this one seems discreet and since he's nicely smooth there'll be no hairs on the chocolates. Take note Oz this is what you should be aiming for.

Unfortunately I don't have any Haigh's but I did pick up a 250gram block of Old Gold peppermint cream dark chocolate which was only a little over the 'use by' date. I also got $10 on a scratchie. I tell you the day was good, with all that and a free loaf of bread, tinned tomatoes at 77 cents and I came in under the food budget.

When I got to the home this morning, Mother was holding court in the day room again. She had another list for me. She needs the large mirror which my sister keeps forgetting to take. A letter to Aunt Selma to be posted, a rolling pin, a bag of lemons and a pair of slippers. The girls in the activities room bring their own rolling pin if they have a cooking afternoon so Mum has donated hers, I get to find it. They also have to buy lemons at $1 each for the cooking afternoons, I get to haul a bagful down there. The slippers are because she has to wear the TED stockings now that she's not walking but she can't wear them with open toed shoes. With supreme confidence, she told the physio that her daughter would know exactly what to get and where. Thanks Ma, no pressure to be superdaughter. I did find them, Homeyped have special ones for diabetics, velco fastener at the back, two across the front so they open right out and can be put on easily. I left a $10 deposit and they'll be in next week and I ordered them in dusty rose pink. Mission accomplished and I can't tell how much of a pleasure it was, knowing that they would be appreciated.

I've just got the hard rubbish notice and I hate to say HawtAndrew was right when he said the chair I boosted last year would still be unpainted in 12 months. I hate it when men are right.
Anyway it's back to the house next week to make sure that nothing of mine gets chucked out and everything else does.

I've been through all the cupboards, found everything of monetary and sentimental value including family papers that someone might want to look at one day. I found the notice I'd written on my son's death. I wrote my own because nobody had bothered to ask if I wanted to say anything. I also found my grandmother's wedding ring and the cameo ring she was wearing the day she died. I knew it was hers the moment I touched it.

Mum also told me I could cut off the phone. I didn't want to do it until she was ready and settled to life away from her home but today it was done. It's been a short time and a long journey since the 10th of August but that light at the end of the tunnel is looking brighter.

WELL, THAT'S SEPTEMBER ALMOST GONE

Just imagine there is a photo of a really classy naked torso of a hot guy right here.
There should be but blogger wouldn't load it and I was going to share it with HawtAndrew.

My tooth is fixed. I am recovering from the giant dose of antibiotics I have to take whenever I see the dentist.

Mother is doing well. Aunt Patty rang on Sunday to say she wouldn't be down as she had a children's party. Mother said it was fine but if she came during the week she'd have to ring ahead. This was so she would be in her room waiting for them because she has such a busy social life these days. Lovely putdown, Ma.

I have just ironed and named her spring and summer clothes and that is the last name tag I put on anything. On Monday I delivered everything on her list including our wedding photos, the ones without the divorced grooms. Then she wanted a basket to carry her ods and bods around so I reminded her she had a little patchwork bag so that's packed.

Now if I could just pack my life into a little patchwork bag and keep it neat and out of the way, I'd be happy. It's trying to re-set the mind to the freedom setting that's giving me trouble but I think I'm almost there.

IT'S A COMMON THING

That when the stress slows down (it hasn't, believe me, it hasn't) carers can often become ill.

I sat down yesterday and wrote a note to myself.

First, see the dentist and have teeth cleaned and checked.

Second, see the doctor about those odd bouts of elevated blood pressure, the palpitations, the shakes, hyperventilating etc.

Thirdly, see the physio to finish fixing all the bone and muscle stuff from three years ago.

Then half my back molar fell off and rolled around my gob so I tore up the list in case I mozzed myself in other ways.

Good news is, the dentist is going to pour concrete over what's left in the manner of Chernobyl which should give me another few years of use.

Bad news is, it will cost $200 and my current financial status - $5.31 in the bank, $2.58 on Visa.

I think I'll try a post-dated cheque and begging for mercy.

NEVER MIND THE FOOTY AWARD

I've been given my own award. Thank you Kath Lockett and I think you might be right about the 'S' being in front of what my blog's all about.

Now according to the rules of the award I'm supposed to name seven worthy blogs to receive this award.

Too difficult. All my blogs are worthy, I never read unworthy blogs. I have droolworthy, laughworthy, learnworthy, cryworthy, envyworthy and best of all friendworthy. All of you take an award and run with it.

The second part is to divulge 10 things about myself. That's a definite piece of (S)crap.

1. I'm loving, kind to a fault and would give my last apple cake to no-one.

2. I am really slim and delicately built but live my life in a fat suit to give other people something to feel superior about.

3. I am extremely psychic which is why I don't buy Tattslotto tickets. It would be unfair to the peasants trying to win a life above their station.

4. I sing like an angel, one of Lucifer's.

5. I'd like to live on the moon as I fall down a lot and it's lower gravity would cushion the crunch.

6. I've lived at least two past lives. Nothing regal, poverty stricken more likely so I reckon this one's the best. In this life, they've invented soft ice-cream and computers.

7. I have to put this one down, I always do. I adore men in pale blue V-neck cashmere sweaters.

8. I adore men with grey hair and green eyes.

9. I consider laughter to be the best medicine and yes, I do laugh at other's misfortunes. The sheer pleasure of someone else hitting the pavement for a change brings tears to my eyes.

10. My secret identity is the Great Earth Mother. If you wish blessings to be bestowed upon you, ply me with chocolate especially the good stuff reviewed here. No need to appear in person just mail the offerings with your wish. No impossible wishes can be granted, that's the Sky Goddess' department.

Don't forget to collect your award on the way out.

FAT TAX

Skinny people in power are still going on about putting a tax on fast food.

It's for our own fat-arsed good.

Except for one thing, it's a cheap meal on a day out for a pensioner.

I counted 10 pensioners enjoying that cheap meal when I walked past MacDonald's today.

Shove it up your collective hooters, Canberra.

I HOPE YOU'RE ALL TAKING NOTES

Just when I think I have everything under control, I don't.

Paying the nursing home account is a small problem. We have some cash and money in the bank so I saw the manager of NAB in Mentone to register my Power of Attorney and find out how much money I can withdraw in one transaction.

I can't. My PoA has to go to the Head Office to be verified. I have to take my passport in before they will do that. After that I still can't take money out of the account unless it's bank cheque, $8.00, thank you very much or I arrange for a direct debit with the nursing home. Apparently this is so any despicable family members can't rip off gaga parents. Stupid manager asked me if she could come to the bank and sign out the money herself. If she could do that she wouldn't be in a nursing home, dipstick. I wouldn't go for the direct debit either, too inflexible as we have 14 days to pay when we get the next account and we might need those extra days.

I develop a headache.

The bank is next door to Baker's Delight so the diet that started well this morning died this afternoon.

I have a solution.

I go to Southland tomorrow and take out what's in the account and put it in Mum's St. George account where I also have PoA. Thursday when her pension goes in, I'll do the same because St. George gave us a big cheque book and I can sign a cheque for nothing. This was one of my bitches two years ago when NAB sent a letter saying that no more cheque books would be supplied for her account.
Then every pension day, I'll leave the direct debits in NAB and put the nursing home money and the house rent in St. George. Oh gosh and doesn't that sound so simple in writing and I hope it's that simple in operation.

And now to Centrelink. They sent us four pages of incomprehensible crap which we finally worked out was to tell us they'd assessed the broken down asset of a house and added another thousand to the amount I'd put down. This meant she couldn't get any assistance with an accommodation bond. That assessment is now sent to the Department of Aged Care and they will send us another four pages to say whether or not she has to pay more than 85% of her pension. This could take another 3 weeks.

And just to round off the day, Taxis are having new software installed for eftpos and taxi directorate cards but it's not working....sometimes. It's a bit late to tell me when we are halfway to somewhere that I will have to pay full fare. This morning I had to have a taxi considering the size of the two bags I was hauling but he used the old fashioned writing with a pen method but he wasn't used to it and used up 6 forms before I paid then I shut the door on the beads on my wrap and lost a whole string under the seat. If anyone finds them, just send them on to me.

And Mother's well enough to be giving orders. She wants the wedding photos off the mantlepiece, her address book and some cotton dresses for the warmer weather and don't forget the name tags and I can take home that dressing gown and that pink suit which is too big but leave the jackets because she'll need those for when she goes outside.

Perhaps the headache started here.

WALKING DOWN MEMORY LANE

It's Year 9 and the battleaxe in charge of needlework tells us that to pass the final exam we have to make a dress. The family is in another monetary crisis so we put a fine black wool material on lay-by. It seemed to take ages to pay off and the battleaxe was threatening a fail. I picked this pattern as it looked simple enough to make in a hurry. Wrong! The neck stands away not sits flat and as there are no sleeve seams (a plus in my choice) there is a gusset to be put in under the arm. I sweated over this and when it was finished, the battleaxe awarded me 5 out of 100 points. She said I was late with the project, the dress was black and too sophisticated and my sewing was substandard. That last one was a crock since my mother did most of the gusset bit. As for being too sophisticated, I was and I wore it to the races, the movies, in fact everywhere. I made detachable collars and changed the look constantly as it was my 'Lily Langtry' dress, the only good one I had. I wore it until the stitching and the fabric finally gave out.

And here we are at 20. I loved this dress but not in chiffon. I used a soft silver lame/lurex and the high collar was as heavily beaded as it is here. I cheated. I bought the beading by the metre from Buckley and Nunn. I wore it with Louis lV silver shoes with a silver leather rosette on the front and a matching bag. And the bling, silver drop earrings with one rainbow crystal on the end. I wasn't as skinny as the model but my hair had just been cropped from waist length and that looked like her's. I used to use a colour called Mahogany Cherry and the bath always looked like a serial killer had been at work.

The Biggie. The Wedding Dress. Yes, that is Jean Shrimpton and no, I didn't look as svelte as she does. We dropped the long train, thank the Goddess, since the drunken groom had enough trouble with the short veil which I'd decided on. The collar and sleeves were in silk chiffon and the dress fabric was linen with a paisley over stitched pattern. I've still got it and it's in good nick. I just have to stop wanting to embroider the paisley with tiny pearls.

DO NOT HOARD, THROW IT OUT!

It should be my motto but isn't, that belongs to my sister.
So I'm sitting in the middle of 25 years of craft makings and lace and satin and it's taking all my willpower to not put something on the 'to keep' pile.

There is a little craft group who will take everything, no matter how small. I don't know if they really meant that but they're getting everything except the stuff I really must keep for poverty reasons. I'd never be able to afford this or that lace in today's money.

I found receipts for 1985 when we were offered a deal to take a huge amount of discontinued lace worth $6,000 and yes, we did pay just under $3,000. It was a lot of money in '85 but I'm still wearing some of the lace collars on my dresses. When the dress wears out, I put the collar on its replacement.
I'm surprised Mum and I both didn't faint when we got home realised what we paid but when that box arrived we couldn't have cared less. Now it's come back to me.

I've spent two days just looking in boxes even though I'd been through them twice in the last 3 years but always anticipating that Mum might take up a bit of craft again but now it's the final act. I don't think she ever threw a scrap away and just as well I had a clean out a few years back so I can appear righteous.

It's surprising how rough on the hands lace can be until one picks up a glorious piece of Swiss guipure just after putting down a cheap knock-off Chinese copy. Nothing beats the rich colours, run through with gold, of Thai lace either. Now it's all computerised and made in India or China.

I have emptied 7 plastic boxes so far but there are 11 bags sitting in my sewing room.

I have a headache and handache but I've found half a block of roast almond chocolate in the cupboard, so bugger off Hoarders Anonymous.

BORING, BORING, YES IT'S MY MOTHER AGAIN

Things are beginning to settle down especially the shock at picking up the bill for the nursing home. That was my fault for not finding out how or when to pay but they've given us an extra week to find the whole amount so crisis avoided.

AGL are not behaving again. Another phone call to them tomorrow and I want the terms of our arrangement to be written in somebody's blood and posted to me.

Mum has a swizzy new wheel chair and sits in it all day instead of lying in bed. She's reading books, Barbara Cartland, her favourites. She's up with all the gossip. The lady in the other bed is a bit of a whinger which mum loves. She says it's like watching a soap opera. This morning, the hysteria was about a missing extension to her bra which was later found hanging on the clothes she wore yesterday so mum's having a good laugh about all this. Not just a smile but a good old laugh. It might be costing a packet but it's worth it.

We just won't discuss the apple cake or my weight or my blood pressure or the black eye I gave myself walking into a door.

THE CHANGES

If someone had said to me two months ago that I would sit down with my mother for two hours and have an enjoyable conversation, I would have laughed in their face. But that's what I did yesterday and probably I'll have the same conversation tomorrow since the short term memory isn't getting any better.

She's smiling, not a vicious word leaves her mouth, well except about the Bouvier sisters neither of whom are bothering to visit and the nurses love her. They washed and cut her hair yesterday and she looks ten years younger. The good food is doing wonders for her skin but I think it's more the movement of people in and out of the room all day. Sometimes she goes to the dining room for lunch but not if she's in pain. Yesterday she managed to stand up for a few minutes but it took an effort so the physio's hopeful yet that she might be able to walk a little bit.

I'm walking more than ever and it's killing me. The getting up and down bus steps if it isn't a lowrider is murder. Dragging myself past cake shops is a battle of extreme willpower that I regularly lose. As for the obesity crisis in our teenagers well I can't see how any of them could be overweight carrying those enormous bags on their backs full of school books. I can't believe how heavy they are and I should know since one got plonked on my foot last night. The kids get on the bus, drop the backpacks and immediately straighten up and add 6 inches to their height.

Another week or two and this blog might get back to posting something interesting. Great post coming up about the Hope Diamond, a post that's been 4 weeks in the reading about let alone posting about.

STILL AT THE COAL FACE

Junk, junk and more junk. Throwing out clothes and shoes and bits of this and that. I'll have to have another look into my own de-cluttering after going through my mother's house.

The two bins are full to the brim and I've only gone through the bedroom. The sewing room is a monster waiting to devour my time so roll on 'hard rubbish' collection.

The BrickOutHouse was getting a bit antsy about changing his grandmother's house and moving her things but after today he realises why I'm going about it so thoroughly and so slowly.

Already I've found her pearls tucked away in a tiny purse. And joy, today I found his watches.
The watches, always the watches and what happened to them. His 21st watch, his grandfather's gold watch, which was still ticking away after 15 years and his sapphire and diamond watch from his father. Mum had put them away safely, so safely nobody could find them until today.

I was trying to move some glasses into a corner of the crystal cabinet but they kept getting caught on something I couldn't see in the dark of the hall. And there they were in a pouch in the corner, the darkest corner.

The sapphire faced watch with the four diamonds has a checkered history. In one of my sister's manic throw-outs, the watch went but on the way to the bin, it dropped in the grass. By the time the BOH frantically tried to retrieve his treasures nearly everything was lost. He was lucky to save his stuffed rat. Those damned stuffed rats. The boys used to buy them at the Dingley Market and hang them from the double bunks and they looked disgustingly real. Anyway, the watch was miraculously found, when sister ran over it with the lawnmower. The band was mangled but the face and works were okay.

He has declared he will now look after his precious watches and I'm putting this here as a record that he said that just in case they go missing again and he wants someone to blame.

Just as long as he doesn't put them in the sewing room.

THE LABEL SAYS 'MY LIFE'

And a really big laugh that is. Did I actually say I'd have a life when Mum was fixed up and somewhere safe?

I'm still working for her. Another 9 pages filled out for Centrelink and I must post it in the morning since Mercury is apparently going retrograde in regard to communications. No dealing with AGL this week. I still have 4 things to do for her tonight before I can pack the bag for the morning. I tell you I deserve that apple cake.

I certainly deserved it for the effort of disengaging the Mepacs unit. I moved chairs, fumbled with phone cords and then had to dust it. So ten minutes later it lets out a squark followed by another and another, 10 minute intervals and I'm baffled because it's all unhooked. I called the centre, 10 minutes on the phone and somebody finally says, "Is it turned off at the switch on the bottom of the unit?" Well, no and who would have thought to look on the arse of the unit to see a switch that says ON and OFF? Problem solved and raspberries to my sister who wanted to get rid of the Telstra phone straight away because 10 minutes on my mobile would have wiped my credits. Anyway I'm paying the phone bill.

I'm emotionally brain tired as well as physically. My sister thinks I'm crazy because I wanted to strip Mum's bed and put on a nice valance and bedspread and generally tidy up the room even though she's not coming back to there. I just don't want to do this when she's gone for good.

It took me an hour and a half to go through 6 drawers in the bedside tables. She'd put them on the one side of the bed because she couldn't reach to the left. There were papers and cards and junk and envelopes with silver coins tucked in them.

But the thing that really got to me and I would have hated finding these after she'd gone, were the notes she wrote to herself. On a birthday card from last year, she'd written in the corner, "I'm 78 today. It's my 78th birthday. I'm 78 years. It's 2008 and I'm 78". That was in March last year, this year she thought she had reached 80 and was glad to find she was a year out. She wrote her name and phone number down constantly along with mine and my sister's. Pages and pages in different books. It's how hard she tried to maintain control in a mind that was not functioning.

I know how she feels.

WHEN BEING TIRED MOVES TO MELTDOWN

So I was tired on Monday, big deal. Last night I went beyond tired and my body and mind just decided to go into meltdown to tell me to take a breather.

Mum loves the home but is taking time to adjust to the changed circumstances. Most independent people take at least three months to do this. The two arthritis conditions have acclerated to the stage where she can't walk and now uses a wheelchair. I watched her yesterday trying to stand and she tried her best but when I went back in the afternoon, she was in a lot of pain.

She was offered another room but declined because she loves her small corner. Everyone has turns to go first and last to the showers and she waited for her turn being warmed by the morning sun, watching the flowers and birds in the garden. She hates the dining room but goes anyway, if she feels like it. She's still giving me orders but I just told her to wheel over and get her own comb to do her hair. I think it's been made easier for her because of something the doctor said in the hospital, that we would no longer be her carers but would become her family again. It's true, even my sister says she enjoys the visits because Mum is not struggling so much and her thoughts have become more lucid. I put this down to the constant stream of people in and out of her life now.

Sis and I still can't believe our good luck, on getting our first pick of nursing home, on it being so quick, on the mental improvement to the old girl and the tension of three years finally letting up.

Since Monday I've been on the finances treadmill.
The Council (meals and cleaning) were happy to take small amounts until the account is settled, ditto the pharmacy.
The rates will still be paid fortnightly.
The insurance paid once a month and all is fine as long as someone is living in the house and please send us your Power of Attorney.
The Mastercard was a big worry. Too much for us to find once a month but their hardship department couldn't have been nicer. Just name a figure that you can manage and pay it on the same day each month. The account is temporarily closed and no further interest to go on it.

But our favourite company, the one we all love to hate and where Hal the mad computer is finishing out his days and causing trouble. AGL, the Devil's playground. After spending ages on the phone with a follow up call the next day, I obtained the billings codes so we could make extra payments to drop the amount owing. Good plan, bad execution. According to the lovely gentleman I phoned this week (because the direct debits hadn't come out of the bank again) the computer simply took our extra payments as the now and future direct debits, which means we've not paid extra at all. When I asked why I wasn't told this at the time, he said probably because the young people at the call centre don't know it. Jeebus, Mariah and Josepha, can't somebody send a memo in that place?

Now all I have to do is wait for the Centrelink assessment and assorted paperwork and we'll know if she has to pay more than 85% of her pension to the home. With the rent from the BrickOutHouse and any left from the pension, we won't have to sell her home.

And I've put on 6 kilos in the last 5 weeks. It's going to be hard to take off. I have to walk past the bakery in Mentone that makes the best shortcrust apple cakes in Melbourne. If I take the shortcut through the lane, I come out smack dab in front of Baker's Delight where the wafting smells of custard scrolls and date scones ambush me. Donations of will power will be gratefully received.

DID ANYONE GET THE NUMBER?

The number of the truck/tank/747 that ran over me today.

The time by my computer is 11.15 and I've just woken up.

I went to sleep in my chair, in the middle of eating a block of chocolate.

So you can see how wasted I feel.

She might be comfortable in the nursing home but the clean-up crew is still battling on.

I am sooooooooo tired.

I want to spend the next two miserably cold days in bed with a pile of books but there is a list of phone calls that can't wait.

They don't have phones in the nursing home, a ray of sunshine wanders across what's left of my mind.

ELEVEN DAYS

Tests, papers to sign, papers to find, taxis,(lovely driver who recognised stress especially after I hit my head on the plastic safety bubble not once but twice) buses,(lovely driver who insisted on parking just up from the stop so I could step down easily on the curb) walking, stress and more stress.

But today, in all that freezing wind and rain, with a list of nursing homes to visit, we got lucky with our first choice. I had to go to Bonbeach to see a home there so I decided to get in a visit to the one in Mentone to put her name on the waiting list.

We particularly wanted this place as the nursing staff has a beaut reputation and Mum's lived in this area for nearly 60 years. So before I sat down the director said they'd had a cancellation and would we like the bed.

Okay it's a four bed ward but large and Mum's bed is right next to a floor to ceiling window and sliding door which looks out onto a small patio but huge garden with birds everywhere. She can see the street and any passerby.

I rang my sister who was there in a flash, took one look at the window and said we'll take it.

This was at 11 a.m. and Mother moved in at 5 p.m. There'll be a few tears tonight but in a week she'll be right. Her nurse tonight has the same doctor in Hampton. The lady across the way, although completely out of it, lived two streets away in the early days. The home itself is in Brindisi Street, the first street she walked with my father to see his family.

Not everything is done yet. There is a special place in Hell for writers of Centrelink booklets. I'm still trying to get that done and posted. Everybody has said, post do not hand in, they lose it as a matter of course. Tomorrow instead of nightdresses, I have to go over and pick out clothes and label every one.

I've had two visits today and not once did I see a miserable face on a nurse. The home is surrounded by gardens and lawns, bricked pathways for walkers and wheelchairs. I'm relieved but so tired I'm off to bed with a couple of painkillers for my spine and knees, lotion for the stress rash on both legs and dreams not nightmares for a change.

MOBILE PHONES

I have a mobile phone for emergencies like me falling over in the middle of nowhere or mother falling over anywhere (she doesn't have the number, I'm not that stupid).

So when it goes off in the middle of the night I usually panic.
Last night's message which I deleted, (stupid me deleting blog fodder) was a cracker.

Apparently Miss S had given Mr M the big A and he was trying to find out what he did or was she just playing games. Language was a bit aggressive so I called Mr M a few names and deleted.

An hour later there's another message from Mr M to Miss S, which was more gentlemanly and soppy and begging. So I thought I'd better put him out of his misery. I sent a text (I will not use texted) back to say he was sending to the wrong number.

Half an hour goes by and then it's "Who is this"

Fifteen minutes later, (shut up, it takes me that long to find the alphabet to send proper English) I answered. "A sixty year old Grandmother".

Two minutes later, "srry love".

Sweet mystery of life. Did Miss S deliberately give him a wrong number? Did Mr M punch the wrong keys and keep doing it? Did they every meet up and make up? Why did I delete the first message, it would have given me a clue?

GUILT-O-METER

I lost a packet on the pokies last night.

I ate far too much inappropriate food.

I ate a block of chocolate that needed a block and tackle to move.

I drank 3 glasses of my vintage port, 3, I can't believe 3.

Don't ask about the tranquilizers.

My eyes look like two piss holes in snow.

And nothing is stopping the guilt-o-meter from going critical.

The only way I'll suvive this is for someone to remove the empathy chip from the circuitboard in my brain.

It's no good telling me that others will make the decision, it's not up to me alone but I'm the one with Power of Attorney and I have to sign the papers.

D-Day, Tuesday.

Thank the Goddess I've nothing more to lose at the pokies but I've still got the port and hidden somewhere in this house is another block of chocolate.

SPARKLING LIKE DEW DROPS........

I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard that or read it in a book, usually one of Barbie Cartland's.

But this morning as I was racing for the bus I noticed that every nature strip and lawn was actually covered in dew drops and sparkling like little diamonds.

I slowed down (missed the bus by that much) just to look. It really was beautiful. The sun was at the right angle and not yet warm enough to dry the grass.

The next time I read a Cartland description of her heroine looking delicate in a lace dress covered in sequins and sparkling like dew drops, I'll know exactly how it looks.

I'm still gobsmacked at the sight. It probably happens a lot but I'm usually still in bed and not rambling along at the right time.

I will carry the sight as I ring the hospital to see how Medusa got on with the bone scan.

ALWAYS LEARNING

I always thought I had a garden beds full of snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) but not so. Snowdrops are delicate, tempermental and hard to grow and expensive to buy.

So this is what I have growing, Snowflakes (Leucojum aestivum). Easy to grow and cheap which explains why they've been coming up every year for the last 15 instead of keeling over like every thing else does in my garden.

*******************************************************

And that's the last intelligent post you'll be getting for a week or two. Mother is in hospital likely to be assessed as high level nursing care which means straight from there to a nursing home and we must rustle up a list of five by the end of this week. She doesn't know yet and we aren't telling her until the last possible moment.

WHEN I'M AN OLD LADY, I SHALL WEAR PURPLE

And hair extensions

and flimsy clothes

and jewellery

and keep three plastic surgeons in luxury

REVERSE MORTGAGES

I gritted my teeth and watched 'A Current Affair' last night to see the segment about reverse mortgages.

My advice is never to deal with any business offering deals unless it's a bank. My mother had two reverse mortgages with St. George. One in 2000 and the other in 2004, one would have been enough but we needed to put in more concrete ramps and pay off another 8 grand on her credit card.

The current balance of the mortgage is $92,000.00 which is still only a third of what the house is valued at. You can add another 8 grand for her credit card debt (again) plus whatever a funeral will cost plus solicitor's fees and we will be paying out a sizeable amount when she falls off the twig. But we said at the time that the house was hers and she should be able to make it safe for her to live in when she was a lot older. There were some things done where we should have put our combined feet down firmly but nothing stands in the way of the mothering steamroller.

The daughter who was shocked at her mother's mortgage being $45,000 more than she thought obviously hadn't been part of the negotiations or hadn't had the details spelled out.
Before St. George would release any money, we had to see an accountant and a solicitor, who both explained every clause in the contract and we had to sign a declaration that we understood every clause. There were pages and pages in the contract where we had to sign that we understood. The accountant had to show us how the compound interest would mount up year by year.

The bank would let us have no more than 25% of the house and land value. The second mortgage was even less and considering how she racked up the credit card again, we probably should have said no to this one. No-one might put Baby in a corner and the same can be said of mother when she's made up her mind. We're still not in a bad position as the house is on a corner block, near two bus routes, two small shopping strips, one bus goes straight to the beach and Southland is 5 minutes away.

On the minus side, the 1950s laundry is asbestos board, the stove is cactus, the outside decking is hazardous to fat people, but it has heating and cooling and we should have no trouble paying back St. George. The money wasn't spent on holidays or a new car, it all went into the house (and the credit card), the contract was explained clearly and I consider the bank acted with integrity. The moral of the story is to stay away from dodgy loan companies.

ONLY IN AMERICA AND I HOPE IT STAYS THERE

I'm still shuddering at this.

MuVChat has it's own facebook page so it's becoming a rage.

It allows audiences to text comments during a film which then appear as ticker-style commentary along the bottom of the screen.

Entrepreneur Rien Heald has been trialling this with selected movies such as Zoolander and viewers posted an average of 40 texts per film.

Sweet chaos, what next.

JUST ANOTHER S-BEND

Yep, another S-bend.

I'm too old to ever

wear a tutu
Life regret No. 426

DREAM SYMBOLS

Well it didn't take long to work out the meaning of the missing S-bend, AGL strikes again.
Why doesn't some-one consign this monstrosity of incompetance to Hell and leave it there.
It's now into August and I've just found out that the direct debits I laboured long and hard to have re-instated, haven't been.

To give them their due, they did re-instate the $30 per fortnight but when I put it up to $50, someone typed one letter wrong for the BSN for the bank.
This even after I rang and queried when it didn't come out and I was told, it would on the 2nd and 4th Tuesday of each month which is inconvenient neither being near mother's pension day.

So sister goes to the Post Office to pay extra but can't do it because with a direct debit account there is no barcode on the bill, no BPay, no Postbill and no mail address.
I have to deal with the morons again which is when I learn of the 'no direct debit' business.
The girl gave me the BPay codes for AGL electricity and gas.
Five minutes after I put the phone down I realize this is for internet and phone banking which is not what we want to do.

Why does everyone think we all do internet and phone banking? Why don't they ask?
So another phone call and I now have Postbill codes.
The accounts are now over $800 and $700. Thank you AGL for my nightmare.

At least if she falls off the twig, I don't have to pay immediately. As executor, the accounts go on my name (O joy), the direct debits continue without the pensioner concession and I finalize when the house is sold. Now I'm putting this here for the record. It's what I was told this morning and if it suddenly changes when the time comes, I'll shove this blog down their necks.

Tomorrow I have to deal with the NAB about the credit card which is another thing I won't be able to continue paying after the 'falling off the twig' deal. The best offer is to discontinue payments but continue interest until the house is sold. If they protest then I'll go on about a company that automatically upped the credit limit for a dippy old pensioner after we'd applied for a limit of $2000. Not to mention that it wasn't explained clearly that cash advances on a credit card must be paid back as well as the normal card payment. Those cash advances are the reason she keeps telling me that she managed on the pension and why can't I manage?

The Council rates have arrived and they're getting no more than $50 a fortnight and I will have the balance paid right on the dot of June 30th 2010. One squeak out of them will be their last.

Everything is a juggling act with me using both hands and feet.

And that's just mother's accounts never mind mine.

NOW THIS IS DREAMING

Spicecomments.com - Fantasy Comments

DREAMS

I dream in all colours and go to a lot of places and see people I haven't seen for years mostly because they're dead.
Some dreams are just jumbles but at other times I really feel that I've been somewhere which according to the New Agers means that I've been astral travelling.

So I'm not quite sure what to make of last night's dream.
A nice sunny day, a backyard barbecue and lot's of people, can't say friends because I didn't recognize anyone.
The trouble started when I discovered the S-bend of the toilet had been stolen as in removed, taken away, hidden and I'm standing in a foot of water beside a lonely throne.
The women of the group immediately blamed the men.
I'll go along with that as it's the kind of stupid thing men would do just to show they can go behind the nearest lemon tree.
The party degenerated into a women's talkfest of all the stupid things men do and don't do with regard to toilets. The seat left up was mild compared to some other stupid things.
I woke up before the actual 'picking up the porcelain and throw it' part of the party started and it was definitely heading in that direction.

I know my life is a bit crap at the moment but I don't expect it to impact on my dream life which I like to be run more along the lines of Daniel Craig bringing me a Pina Colada and letting me drink it out of his navel.

Tonight I think I'll go for the astral travel to one of those resorts with a booze bar in the middle of a shaded swimming pool.

ANOTHER YEAR ALREADY?

That year went fast although I have decided not to get any older. My age will remain the same as last year's, an official secret. It's all winter and drabness so I thought a spring like birthday would be nice. And so.......

Shut up, he qualifies as springlike, he has flowers on his luscious body and is holding a rose. He's also useful for handing out the cake.

Very spring like and not easy making green look good. If your cupcake croaks, you've found the secret Kermit and you'll win a prize. Luscious up there is on the list but if you fancy something else, you're out of your mind.

Also springy was dying my hair blonde. AAAAARRGGGHHHHH! Panic Panic Panic

Never mind the clean bathroom, where's the bloody hair dye. Oh Goddess, my eyes, my eyes!

Never, never do that again.

Oh that's better, I'm back to being me. Red hair is so slimming. One should never tamper with perfection. (stop that drooling Lad Litter) I don't know who the blokes are in the background, I only ever see me when I'm around. Look a lot like bloggers though.

A spring tiara for my hair, lovely red hair, lovely lovely red hair. A bit of bling's always nice even if I did have to buy it myself.

Still with the spring theme. I love dragonflies.

Another kind of fly. I had the broom modified. One must make some concession to age and weight. Not my weight, just look at the armour I'm carrying around up there. A bit weird on the cornering and not as fast but light on the landing and take off speed, wow, 0 to 2kmh in one hour.

And the day's good luck, the Bouvier Sisters stayed away.

TODAY I HAD TO..........

Clean the bathroom.
I can't wait until I have enough money to rip the bath out and have a walk in shower.
Without a door.
Without a step.
It's very uncomfortable to trip up the step and shove a toothbrush half-way up one's nose.
Which I did last night.
Which brought me nose and toothbrush close enough to the tiles to notice the flourishing ecosystem taking over the grout.
See when you get old, your eyes go and you skip over things that don't actually beat you over the head and say clean me.

Remind my mother that I had a husband for thirty years.
Goddess knows I'd like to forget.
But his name and his face?
She couldn't place him and I could almost hear the bell ring when the brain connected.

Feed the freeloading feathered stomachs that peer in my kitchen window.
They peer menacingly.
Alfred Hitchcock has a lot to answer for.
Just wait until I have enough money to brick in the back yard.
Little bastards will break their beaks picking up seed.

ANAK KRAKATAU

On the 29th of December 1927, a submarine eruption started in the same position of Krakatau's mighty explosion of the 19th century. A new island named Anak Krakatau - "Child of Krakatau" rose above the water but the pumice and ash were quickly washed away by wave action as were the other two islands that followed. In August 1930, a fourth island emerged, erupting lava flows that resisted erosion.

Krakatau is directly above the subduction zone of the Eurasian Plate and the Indo-Australian Plate where the boundaries make a sharp change of direction leading to a weakening of the crust.
There were three volcanic cones on Krakatau: Rakata to the south, Danan to the north and Perboewatan also to the north.

Since the 1950s the island has steadily grown to a high point of around 980 feet (300m) above sea level and is still active with the latest eruption starting in April 2008 but an intense period of explosive eruptions began in 2009.

The following images were taken by Marco Fulle over the 4th to the 9th of June, 2009.



This is Anak Krakatau from the island of Rakata which is the main island of the Krakatoai group.



This is Anak during a tropical storm where lightning hits the crater. Lightning activity like this was also seen over the crater of the erupting Chaiten volcano.

The thunderstorm here is only about 500 metres from the crater. The lightning can be seen behind the ash cloud from the latest explosive episode.

101 USES FOR AN EX-HUSBAND

Scientists believe they can make an artificial human brain

within a decade, after successfully replicating

parts of a rat brain.

And I thought he was totally useless.

THE LONG DAYS

The days between the 13th of July and the 10th of August are always long days for me but this year has been the worst.
Anger and repressed memories clamouring to be allowed screaming room.
An hour can go by and I realize I've been staring out of the window with nothing in my mind but tears on my face.
Watching that small coffin at Geelong today set me off again. Poor child, to be so hounded that dying was better than living.
I hate cemetaries. They serve no use at all, there's no comfort there just concrete and dirt.
I hate these 28 days of winter.
He started dying on the full moon of July and stopped living at the full moon of August.
And every year the questions pour out.
Was I there enough?
Was there anything I could have done?
Was there one thing in his life that made him happy to be my son?
I'll never know now.

I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE TALL

More than tall, very tall and with long red hair. I've got the red hair.

The saga of the energy saving light globe in the ceiling is on-going.

Tall person nephew came in this morning so I had him change the globe for warm white.

Tall person stands on the floor and simply reaches up right into the ceiling and unscrews the globe, replaces globe and it doesn't work.

The stark daylight globe has four prongs or whatever, replacement globe has three whatevers. It screws in but doesn't make contact.

It will go in the smaller downlight but not the big one.

So next shop, I must look for 100w in new 18w, make sure it screws in, make sure it's warm daylight, make sure it has four whatevers and take out a bank loan to buy it.

I can't believe tall person can just reach to the ceiling. He even had to bend his elbow since he had arm room left over.

I have red hair.

WHEN A MEME IS NOT A MEME, ALMOST

Over at 'Risotto is the opiate of the masses' they had a comments thread about what bad food we eat when we're alone and can't be bothered with the full 5 serves of anything good. Grilled cheese on toast was a favourite.

I love cold baked beans sandwiched between great slabs of fresh white bread. I have heartburn for about a week not to mention wind that could power the Cutty Sark on the tea run from China.

If I'm really good I'll mangle an omlette with grated cheese and have that with toast but I do love hot chips. I steam them first then crisp them up in hot olive oil, a bit of grated lemon, pepper and lots of salt (forget the blood pressure, it went up at the first mention of 'chips') and maybe a fried egg. No tomato sauce, I refuse the tomato sauce.

Chocolate is not bad, it's an essential food group and it's acceptable as a light meal as long as you don't have a deep-fried Mars bar for dessert.

Chips, mmmmmmmm, damn, have already chopped the good stuff for stir fry but with Thai noodles.

So this afternoon, gloomy and cold afternoon, I watched "The Time Machine" with our own Rod Taylor not the new version which I haven't seen yet. It's stood the test of time although I felt sorry for the poor Molocks who slaved for the Eloi in return for a bit of fresh meat from time to time and got smoked for their trouble.

Brave George decides to go back to the future and help restore civilization and takes three books with him. Well, that's caught my attention for the last few hours. Which books would start civilization from scratch? It's all supposed to be mindless football on a Saturday arvo, not thinking stuff.

It's easier to say what wouldn't be on my list. No it's not, I'm stumped there as well.
Go for your food and book choices in the comments.

JUST ME, WHINING AGAIN

It's very easy to lose confidence in going out at night by yourself. I haven't been out at night for a looooooooong time, probably 12 months and my one big day time trip was in January. For the most part my world is confined to a 3km circle.

So tonight, I was dressed, bejewelled and raring to go. No great place, just the local pub for dinner and maybe a play with the pokies. I even managed to get a taxi in record time.
Settled in with my feet up and was winning a few spins when the mobile went.

Wouldn't you know it, Mepacs. My mother has hit the emergency button and I'm wanted. I'm 20 minutes away so I tell them to ring the next two on the list. Sister's out, she's on late shift so the neighbour comes in. I've cashed in and hit the road to mother's, halfway there before I managed to get her home phone. The neighbour is so cheery, not to worry, it was only an accidental push on the button, she's fine.

I'm not. I'm homicidal. Dear mother, so surprised to see me at the door. Of course she didn't press the button, denies everything. But since I'm there, would I go and get the washing out of the dryer and fold it up.

Nephew got me out of the house before I tontined her. When I left she was on the phone to Aunt Patty telling her that I'd called her a vitriolic bloody old bitch. I got nephew out of the house before he told Aunt Patty the same thing.

Dear love, he was quite prepared to take me back to the pub and pick me up later but the mood had gone, all I wanted was home. So he bought me two enormous blocks of chocolate, rum and raisin, liqueur centres and told me to enjoy. It took half a block to stop shaking.

TIME IS NOT ON MY SIDE

If it was I wouldn't be worried about the next birthday.

I sat down today to string and knot some pearls. I didn't know where to start.
This is bad. To totally forget something which I could do in my sleep. I really couldn't remember the knack to tying the knot and getting it snug to the pearl.

The swearing was disgraceful. If it's still on the 'big sin' list then I'm heading for the other place.

So how did I forget something so basic. I mean it's not that long ago that I could sit all afternoon and throw a couple of necklaces together to match the new dresses. I am in the habit of putting everything in plastic bags for each project and dating them. Three years, three lots of 12 months since I bought these burgundy pearls and crystals. I could have sworn (did) it was only yesterday.

Never mind the sand in an hour glass, I've got a month glass that's throwing days.

LOL LAUGH

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

I had a cat with eyes like this. He used to walk up my body and stare into my eyes until I gave in and filled his dish. And they say marriage leads to a slave mentality.

NEVER MIND THE CHILDREN, THINK OF DIAL-UPPERS

I have been handcuffed to the computer for three days because of the snail speed of dial-up with seems to be getting slower. River sent me a program for removing Trojans which took 3 hours to download and messed up every other 'anti' program I had running. It was a good 'anti', River but I think it was too shiny for this old dear.



Microsoft kept trying to install IE8 every time I logged on. Adware wouldn't load updates and took 3 hours to scan the computer. AVG wouldn't load updates and took 5 hours to do a complete scan of everything. Spybot wouldn't load updates but only took 40 minutes to scan.



Total low grade infections/tracking cookies found, ten.



ZoneAlarm is working well. CCleaner is working well.



I've had all those on the computer for four years with updates but anything I try now seems to take forever to download, install and scan. The programs fight with each other, like kids in a sandbox.



I like XP, it's simple, functional, no frills and like a comfy pair of slippers. More to the point, I can work it, just.



It's the speed I'm having problems with. I just bought my Harry Potter ticket over the internet and it took 35 minutes to load all the pages I needed. It could have been less if I hadn't decided to change my seat and had to do everything all over again. Who'd have thought Gold Class would have been booked out until July 22? I was trying to avoid the popcorn munchers and drink slurpers so hopefully they won't be in the 10.30 session.



I realize I'm tempting fate but if there's a death in the family, I'm still going.

IDIOT OF THE YEAR

This is from our local paper:

A drunk driver crashed his car after accidentally stabbing himself in the leg with a knife while peeling an orange.

He blew five times the legal limit and lost his licence after his car careered out of control on Wells Road. He had consumed a cocktail of beer and spirit mixers.

The moral of the story is - never drink, drive and peel, it just proves three times over what an idiot you are.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED IT

ONE THOUSAND AND FOUR POSTS

FIREWORKS WOULD HAVE LOOKED BETTER FOR ONE THOUSAND

STILL WHO'D HAVE THOUGHT THE MOUTH

WOULD STILL BE GOING

OR THE BRAIN

MOONING

No, it's not me, that would be in the plural - moonings - considering how vast my mooning equipment is. I have a ringside window to the eclipse just above my computer. The moon is supposed to turn a grey colour, nothing dramatic and who could tell with the dirt on my window.

So just to annoy myself further this afternoon, I allowed the gerbil running this computer to download IE8. Did I complain about toolbars recently? Yes, I thought so and now I have toolbars up the wazoo.

There's the computer one in a pleasant green at the top.
The new IE8 plus google next.
Then the old favourites bar which I decided to drop until the new IE8 favourites menu appeared staggering under the load of must read blogs and made the mouse go zippy.
There is another Google search and nifty button bar.
And another address and IE8 button bar.
Down on the bottom, I've ditched the progress bar but kept the computer start up bar with the clock and all that other stuff.

The gerbil has also relayed my age to Microsoft who has brightened my life with extra bold type.
I thought I must have done this but no, appearances and themes still has me on standard not clear type.

My 'create post' page is also new and the labels are in different places, very disconcerting.

But I know why the buttons on the tool bars are annoying me. I'm a lefty mouser and the buttons are for righty mousers. Four years it's taken me to work that out. My brain grinds slow but exceedingly fine.

Totally unrelated to IE8 (I haven't read what tricky little things it has stored up for me but I have seen I can hide my porn travels) is the fact that I've just read a book and it has annoyed me almost as much as a tool toolbar. The author expects me to believe that the hero is a world authority on myths and legends but puts him in an aircraft flying over Peru and he suddenly sees the Nazca lines below and says he doesn't know what they are. Quetzacoatl and Kulkucan are the same myth, one belonging to the Aztec, one to the Maya and it takes half the book for him to connect them. Dan Brown, come back, all is forgiven.

The moon's not doing much considering for Leos it's supposed to be a life changing eclipse. There is one big change, I bought Gelati instead of ice-cream to top my apricots and yoghurt.

STILL CLINGING ON

There's nothing like a butterfly to make me happy especially when this one is making a re-appearance in British fields after nearly going the way of the Dodo.

The Bitch Queen of the Universe is living up to her name and making life difficult.

My sister said this morning that she hates our mother with a passion. I would like to be able to say the same but even a negative emotion like hate is beyond me. I don't think of her at all, not as my mother. She's merely someone who plonked down in the beanbag of my life and hasn't left.

I pay the bills, get the groceries but pleasantries have gone by the board. She has lied to me for the last time although 'lie' doesn't really apply to someone who lives in a lala land of her own making. She fabricates a reality in which other people believe.

I am not sleeping. I am eating far too much of the wrong foods. I found apples in the fridge that must have been on speaking terms with Eve. I shake all the time. I refuse to increase medication that took me three years to decrease. My blood pressure would power two people.
The empathy I used to feel for this woman has dissipated.

All I can think of now is how to cling to sanity until my life is my own. I can't even imagine what I will do with a life of my own.

CHRISTMAS IS A COMING FAST

And how do I know this? Because the Toy Sale Catalogues are out already. I saw this DeathStar and the boys would have loved it. I thought it was reasonable at $59.90 until I wiped my glasses and looked closer, $599.00 but a bargain since after the sale it will be $749.00. Recession, what recession?

They would have had it out of the box and assembled in two shakes but I have yet to put together a lego anything. I fail lego.

I did find a lovely present for Mother. What Mother wouldn't love a furry remote control tarantula at only $20.00, $26.99 after the sale. Ages 8 years and up. There is that little problem of her arachnaphobia though.