FEATHER TREES

This was the first artificial Christmas tree and they were originally made in Germany as early as 1845. By the mid-19th century, decorated trees were more popular than ever; however, in Germany deforestation was widespread, especially during the Christmas holiday season. It had become the fashion to chop off the tip off a large Fir tree to use as a Christmas tree; however, this practice prevented the tree from growing taller and thus made it useless as a timber tree. Statutes were enacted to limit people from having more than one tree, hence protecting the forests. With the introduction of the "goosefeather" feather tree, this problem was resolved.

Goose feathers were plentiful and these feather trees began to be produced as a cottage industry as the alternative to cutting a live tree. The goose feather tree became the first artificial Christmas tree. Metal wire or sticks were covered with goose, turkey, ostrich or swan feathers. The feather sticks were drilled into a larger one to resemble the branches on a tree.
The trees were made to resemble the locally growing white pines of the German forest and the composition "berries" on the end of every branch tip were made to hold lit candles.

The wide spaced branches of feathers, sometimes dyed green, were made to show off the ornaments and I love that this tree is full of birds. Now I've been wanting to make a feather tree for years and I collect feathers every time I'm out walking. The small trees look good in corners where a big tree dominates a room. My tinsel tree is still sitting in the wardrobe for another year but I have a Father Christmas on the mantle.

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

I tried to make a phone call to mum this morning since the Bouvier sisters are calling this afternoon. Their hand held phone is fritzed again for the third time and guess whose mother has done it in for the third time. The first time they managed to get it back, second time, it cost $200 and now it looks as though they're up for a new one, cost $1300. I should have told them that if she was given anything remotely buggerupable to make sure she had an instruction sheet with the off button circled.

I'd just hung up my phone when I realized that mum's handheld phone is on the floor, saved from the family chuckers when I was packing up. It's all cleaned up, battery in and just needs to be charged but the phone jack part is missing and I think it's in another box that hasn't arrived yet. At least with this on the go, the nurses' station can keep the other one out of mum's hands.

Do I have to trumpet again to this family, don't throw anything away that might be useful?

WHO NEEDS A CHRISTMAS STAR

This image was taken by Bjornar G. Hansen during the December Geminid meteor shower. The meteor flashed through the sky over the island of Kvaloya, near Tromso, Norway on December 13. Not only a meteor flash but also the Aurora Borealis in full glow. The Aurora are caused by energetic charged particles from the magnetosphere at altitudes of 100 kilometres above the earth.

WELL IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO LIKE THIS...

I'd stay in bed all morning, reading magazines or hemming my dress for this afternoon but it went like this.
Ring Department of Ageing to check on how much money mum can have before it affects her pension.
They say ring Centrelink, it's their department.
Centrelink says they do this all the time when it's their department and what I have to do is scream for a supervisor.
Centrelink, sweet man, tried to to his best but could only give me a rough idea.
If after all the bills are paid and she has roughly $200,000 then they will reduce her pension since the cutoff point is $137,000.
So if her asset is now $200,000 instead of the original assessment of $351,000 then they will assess the assets again and drop the extra amount we had to pay the nursing home on top of the daily fee. And after the settlement I also have to appear in person at Centrelink with all closed accounts and the official amount of money remaining.
Are you still with me, because I was gaga by this time.
He assured me that she probably would be better off financially.
I wasn't assured at all.
Then I find out that I haven't got a something or other official to receive letters from Centrelink for mother so have to go to Centrelink in person.
But I filled out those forms for Dept. of Ageing. That doesn't matter they don't share.
So I'm off to Centrelink with passport, ring taxi, wait 20 minutes, fortunately as the postie comes and her ATM card is expiring, would I bring passport and other ID to get a new one.
Okay bus to Southland, bypassing my favourite gem store where I drool along the window.
Fix ATM card when ditsy bint finally figures out that I can have the card in my name as the card I'm using for mum is in my name.
Catch bus to Mentone and drop papers off to solicitor and trade insults with him as he's off on his Christmas holidays. I tell him not to upset a stressed out sick person who has a semi-automatic on her Santa list.
Walk to the home, dead on feet by now. They insist I sit down and have a drink. I need $1500 in a big hurry. I can barely describe how divine the chair is that I threw myself into. When you lean back into it, it rocks gently but when you get up it locks in place so you don't fall a over t.
None of the oldies can use it, they need wheelchairs. I want it, I can still feel the gentle rocking, backwards and forwards, and the pain in my back disappeared and I felt warm and fuzzy to the whole world. I want that chair, I need that chair, my life will be nothing without that chair.
Christmas Party was over by six o'clock and it was beddy time for the residents so I waste precious credits calling for a cab then have to run back inside and give mum some money.
I've already paid for my Christmas dinner so she's happy that I can't get back until Friday.
She's unhappy that I didn't drag those bloody parrot seed bells all over creation so she could watch the feeding frenzy.
And tomorrow I'm staying in bed with my magazines and a packet of jelly beans which I must have bought a week ago and forgotten.
I could really do with that chair.

THE PERFECT GIFT

Well, you know how it is when you've unpacked the groceries and realized you haven't bought one block of chocolate or tub of ice-cream so the natural thing is to browse every food blog you have on your blogroll and THERE IT IS!

The perfect Christmas gift forHawtAndrew , a gingerbread tram with all the trimmings.

YES, I'M CROOK, OFFICIALLY

No, it's not swine flu although he asked if I wanted the vac but changed his mind after listening to the song and dance going on behind my breast bone.
It's some bacterial bug that's taken up residence in my right lung which accounts for the strange little whistling noise I've been hearing.
Probably the bug version of Christmas Carols.
One bug clan decided to explore and ran through my kidneys and downhill from there. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out.
The Doc asked if I felt crook. I said yes but what I really wanted to say was, "yes, you twit otherwise why would I spend a fortune on getting a taxi down here because I couldn't get the bus because it was raining again and I feel dizzy and couldn't stand up straight in the shower and bashed my knee on the bath and didn't feel like walking".
It sounds convoluted but then I'd just given the taxi driver a $5 tip in my spaced out condition so no wonder he wanted to stick around and drive me home.
Now a tip from the walking wounded, don't sit down for a cuppa at Southland and take an antibiotic you haven't taken before.
Because you'll get halfway round Safeway and break out in a sweat and lean over the trolley like Rh on a loquat bender. At this stage I was heading for the bird bells and when I got home, it appears I've squandered $30 on those feathered freeloaders just so mother can watch reality television. There'll be so many lorikeets there next week, I'm worried David Attenborough will turn up.
I still have to head off for the residents Christmas Party tomorrow but only because I have more papers for the solicitor and I don't want to miss putting those in. Very nice strong upright signature the buyer has, well against mine which meanders across the page like a caterpillar on speed.
It had better not be raining either. I need a taxi. I'm not carrying 6 kgs of seed bells up to the bus.

RIGHT YOU LOT, SYMPATHY, IN BUKKITS OR ELSE

"Or else", it would be or else but I can't think of anything to do to youse lot that you haven't already done to yourself or will do before JollyRedFatSuit comes visiting.

Wonderwoman has officially given in and is going to the doctor's tomorrow. I think I might be ill.
At least a little bit crook. Nothing serious although the thought of breakfast isn't making me gallop out of bed straight for the fridge which for me, is kind of serious. I can't seem to make it upright for about an hour after I wake up which is about 15 minutes after I figure out what day it is and whether I have to get up.

I would like sympathy, plenty of it. I've gone off chocolate. I don't feel like having a Bombay and tonic. I'm supposed to shop tomorrow as well but looking in the fridge, I'm wondering what I ate for the last two weeks. Toast, I think, given how many bread wrappers were used as garbage bags. And the peanut butter jar is empty but the jam jar is full. If the jam jar is full, I haven't eaten any croissants. I found a mince pie in the Christmas tin and I bought those last pay day.

It might be all in my head but I can't take a chance this close to the annual pig-out day. Writing that made me feel ill.

Never mind the sympathy, send bukkits.

THE BOMBAY IS READY, I'M JUST WAITING FOR THE ICE TO TURN UP

This is the break-up of the Ross Ice shelf in Antarctica in 2000. Usually the iceberg would be caught in the Antarctic Circumpolar Current but the 87 square miles (only a third of its former size) of ice named B17B was pushed north and is now floating towards Western Australia.

B17B had broken into two smaller pieces and the larger has survived in the open ocean for about a year. It is expected to break into even smaller pieces as it moves into warmer waters. The ice shelves are not part of the Antartic mainland, they float around the edges of the continent but they more they melt and break up, the faster the glacial ice flows out from the centre of the land/ice mass.

According to scientists the berg is moving at about one knot a day. New Zealand recently issued a shipping alert after a flotilla of icebergs was seen heading toward the South Island but they drifted away to the east. Seven ice shelves have broken up in 20 years due to the warming of the ocean currents around Antarctica. While B17B has been described as a once in a century event now, in the future it may just become commonplace for bergs to be seen this near to Australia.

It reminds me of a novel written by Ken Follett called "Ice" which was a very good read. It seems a shame we have no way of throwing a tow rope onto this chunk of frozen antidote to our drought.

WHEN LOLCATS AREN'T ENOUGH, THERE'S ALWAYS A CAKEWRECK

Presenting for your spewing delight.........

Poo-Dolph, the bulldozed, slain deer.

One for the doggie bag or pick up poochie pouch.

ZE HOUSE SHE IS SOLD!

It's taken from the 19th November to 9th of December with settling date of January 15 so if anyone is thinking of selling their house, try Aitken Real Estate. They couldn't have been more helpful, they don't believe in auctions and try to match a group of buyers to a certain house.

I walked to the bus stop in the pouring rain on Tuesday to make sure the signed papers were delivered to the solicitor and I was drowned so I hopped on a bus to Southland where it was dry inside. I remembered it was cheap movie day but the line was full of little twihards so I counted up the loot and booked in for Gold Class. 2012 is a movie you have to see on the big screen for the special effects. Really great when you're sitting there watching tsunamis coming from all directions and you're right in character by being soaking wet.

Yesterday was spent dragging a 7 foot bookcase down the hallway, after I dragged out all the sewing things I'd stuffed down there out of the way. Then they had to go back but there's enough room to put the books and videos on the shelves. I have to make room for the next consignment from mother's place and that is the last. I'm still packing knickknacks for the op-shop including my own. I've donated my 16 place china setting to the home for their residents parties but who would have thought I'd need a wharfie to haul plates. The boxes weigh a tonne.
Time to pull in a few favours from anyone with a ute.

Today was paying the home to keep her there, dragging down to Mentone with 3 parrot seed bells and filling in for the bingo caller. My mother making promises I can't keep. I walked past a sparkly Christmas tree and did a 180, the ceramic tree I'd lugged down was on the sideboard and it looked fantastic. I really liked it probably because it didn't involve stringing Christmas lights and putting Christmas dolls and bears and tinsel and crap all over mum's windows.

Tomorrow I'm going to be so tired I'm spending the day in bed with several books and a block of chocolate and trying not to think about the 100 or so CDs that need to go in the CD tower or that the coffee set that should be so shiny in the mirrored cabinet is a gross shade of black or that I'm running out of knickers again.

THERE IS SOME STRESS CHOCOLATE DOESN'T HELP NO MATTER WHAT PROF. LUPIN SAYS

Saturday night brought in four good offers, well above the starting price but Monday, the agent had one of those offers go up another 5 thousand.
It was a curious thing that while she was telling me the story, she doodled on the offer sheet without thinking and had written "dad came to help". A 'curious thing' as it was the day before the anniversary of my father's death. So the buyer's father had come up with more cash than everybody else and I was happy because she intended to renovate and live in the house.
Then the waiting game begins. The deposit was supposed to be paid December lst with the financial arrangements done by December 4th but they've asked for an extension until next Friday.
No problem says the agent as they're probably going through a broker looking for the best deal in light of the interest rate rise.
Ring solicitor and give permission.
Have monumental panic attack in Lincraft. All those shiny baubles and lights and people and fecking Christmas carols shortcircuited the brain so I went and hid in the curtains until I got some control back. Yes, I was the dill with my head in a paper bag hyperventilating behind the shantung curtains down the back of Lincraft.
To round off yesterday I have a monumental fight with stupid 'let's throw everything in a skip' sister. I know why I hate mobile phones, she got to hang up on me before I could bash mine down.
Really stressed now.
How stressed? I was up at 4 a.m. eating chocolate and reading Harry Potter. Neither worked.
But staggering to the bus stop, tensed to the max, I was offered a lift by a lady who's seen me at Southland (not with my head in a paper bag, I hope). Lovely, I could get the bus from there. Another lady on the bus recognised me from Dingley Market and remembered all the craft we used to make.
An old friend of Dad's was visiting Mum and we really had a laugh about the old days when being a pool playing layabout was almost respectable. This was all good as she couldn't see the bags and dark shadows under my eyes until later. I distracted her with giant seed bells for the freeloading feathered blackmailers she loves but she doesn't miss much these days.
My brain was still in freefall when I decided to bypass sister and go to the BrickOutHouse.
Good move, he's picking me up Sunday and we're going through the house and deciding what comes here, what he wants me to keep, what to throw out and what date I ring the Diabetes collection people to pick it up. Then we'll decide on a day to hire a van and do the lot in one day, a suggestion I'd made 2 months ago to the "Skip Queen".
Stress-0-meter is now slowly sliding to manageable.
Probably won't speak to sister for a week or January.

TIME IS GOING TOO FAST

A new show started on 10 last week and I missed it. Him up there is the star so how bad could it be. I'll catch it next week.

The last house viewing was at 6 o'clock tonight and it starts at 10.30 in the morning. At 5 o'clock I get to roll up at the Real Estate agent's office and open the bidding envelopes. The house could be sold tomorrow but settling is going to be 60 days or I'll be dead.

The target group was tradies with family who could do it up or people who would tear it down for a townhouse but the tradies are winning. One more sleep and it could all be over. I'll be down at the pub if you're looking for me. I think I'll need a drink.

IT'S 1.50 IN THE A.M.

So why aren't I asleep for crying out loud?
Last night I was so tired I fell asleep on the bed with my clothes on, woke up at 1 a.m., had a shower and went back to bed. I didn't even hear the rain belting down.

Tuesday, it was back to the solicitor's with more papers, then to Southland and home.

Wednesday, and I was re-arranging a funeral. I hadn't looked at the papers since 2006 so I thought I'd better up-date for mother (or me whoever goes first) because it's going to be paid out of the house settlement regardless of what stupid sister says. I say it's a debt and it gets paid. Well that ended up fun when the lass found out that my ex had worked for them. Much salacious gossip was exchanged and bitchiness abounded. Then I went back to unpacking boxes.
I don't know which is worse, packing up at mum's, unpacking here or re-packing for the op-shop.
I'm being ruthless and with my own things as well. Still haven't got as far as the books or videos or packed the glass cabinet in the kitchen.

Thursday, shocked to find no knickers in the drawer. Memo to self, do some washing and soon.
I had to open the emergency cottontails now I have to buy another emergency pack. I waited for an hour for a taxi, ringing twice which uses up my mobile credits and makes me homicidal especially when driver is a complete moron. He has a GPS and still can't find his way out of my street to Warrigal Road. Take papers to solicitor, get papers from solicitor. Pick up parrot seed ring for mother's bloody greedy parrots. Pick up stuff from pharmacist because stupid sister doesn't want mum ordering through the home in case she starts on a spending rampage. It's her money, you stupid tart. Stagger into nursing home just as the chef wanders past with sausages in onion gravy, waves it under my nose and asks would I like some lunch. It was divine and I faithfully promise to become vegetarian again tomorrow and eat crappy tofu. I also paid up for Sunday lunch.
Walk back through Mentone, gasping, catch bus to Southland to do the banking and say sod it to taking a bus home, deciding on taxi because my feet were starting to hurt up to my knees. I got home just in time for the thunderstorm which drenched me through to my cottontails. One of life's tortures is getting a pair of soaking wet knickers off a lardarse as large as mine. Not to mention the rain hits my hair and 'Sideshow Bob' suddenly appears. Estate agent turns up to collect papers and tells me about all the interest in the house and I'm mentally yelling "SHOW ME THE MONEY" but not before Christmas. She looks around and says that we've moved a lot from the house, I tell her this is just from the hallway.
Sister rings, she's taken down all the paintings, don't ask me why. She also wants to know exactly what times are people coming through the house so she can tell the BrickOutHouse not to be home. I would tell him but some stupid tart told me to cut off the phone. Sister is becoming a pain in the arse.

In fact there have been so many annoying people running through my life this week that it's a good thing I can't buy semi-automatics over the internet.

OKAY, REALLY TIRED NOW

Dentist and walking, feet hurt.
Two phone calls before I left so panic, panic in case I'm late so leave mobile home and spare cash.
Lovely dentist repairs filling with two pins which I think are jammed in my jaw.
The bill gives me another panic attack but she deducted the last filling amount and brings it down to below panic level.
I use mother's bank account to pay for it.
Cross the road to catch bus and pick up my glasses which they couldn't fix so have glued them so I can use them for special occasions. (I've since wrapped fine gold wire around the arm and araldyted it)
Miss bus by bee's dick but it's pleasant sitting in the sun.
Miss bus again but catch the next to Southland, cross the road and catch Berwick bus which stops closer to home but not close enough to stop feet hurting again.
Sister rings.
Half mother's house is arriving at 3.30.
Since I pushed and shoved and removed drawers to have everything ready, it is.
Pine cabinet in through the back door.
Whine, whine, whine when I ask them to move old cupboard to carport where it will be doing sterling duty as my tool shed.
They go back to pick up bookcases and CD tower.
I didn't notice sister putting boxes on top of each other, all filled with glassware.
One bookcase down the hallway.
CD tower in the study and I do have to move the picture, do that tomorrow.
Bookcase in bathroom doesn't work for the towells so I wait til they leave and drag it inch by inch into the sewing room where it fits but blocks off power point. Buy another power board for the other side of the room.
Sit down and faint at the solicitor's letter. I can't understand a word but secretary talks me through it.
Mouth starts to hurt especially where I've bitten my mouth while it was numb.
Stomach complains through lack of food and giant dose of antibiotics.
I'm trying not to look at the bags and boxes that have arrived.
The screw holding my computer chair has just fallen off and I'm too tired to upend the thing and do the two wrench trick to put it back.

Was there a good moment?
A crappy little envelope with the initials, M.J.J. on the front and 'from the pest' on the back.
The writing is little more than a millimetre in size which is how I know it's from my father in the last weeks of his life.
In part it says,

To my Beautiful wonderful trifecta
words written or spoken could never
express my feelings for what you did for me
this past year.

None of us can remember seeing this letter before or after he died.
Such a small but wonderful treasure.

RIGHT UNDER OUR NOSES

Pretty little gems, the one above could be frosted quartz. The jewells below could be frosted amethyst, or blue banded agate, maybe old amber and another frosted quartz.

No, it's all glass. Seaglass, fossicked from the shoreline where it's been thrown up by waves after being tossed, weathered, pitted by the leaching of its components by sea water. It comes in all colours with the rarest being red, made even more rare if it can be identified by the trace of a pattern.

Henry David Thoreau said, "The sea, vast and wild as it is, bears thus the waste and wrecks of human art to it's remotest shore....It lets nothing lie, not even the giant clams that cling to its bottom." So it is with seaglass, always flung back to where it came from.

These lovely pieces are by Lisa Hall and gives an idea of the colours to be found and treasured. It's almost like looking at priceless emerald, sapphire or jade. There are distinctions between the various seaglass specimens, antique seaglass develops a distinctive white residue resulting from extensive exposure to elements of the shoreline.

Seaglass comes from coastal regions everywhere especially it seems when strong storms coincide with a full moon.

New finds of old glass are becoming rare since we've taken to plastic bottles which only float and polute the beaches probably burying the seaglass underneath the dross. I hate to think how many times I've walked over a frosted piece thinking it was 'just old glass'.

I'M OUT OF PETROL

Another luscious delight from Su's blog

I'll have to keep posting photos since I won't be able to eat much until next Tuesday. The other half of the tooth I've just had filled fell out last night. I hate dentists who do this and then have to take out the whole thing anyway when I asked her to do just that. She wanted to do a root canal and for that I'd only have to mortgage the house. So appointment on Monday morning and another shot of antibiotics.

The arm of my favourites glasses snapped off so I glued it back with 5 minute araldyte which unfortunately melted in the hot sun. OPSM pissed me off so I called in to a small shop in Mentone and they've gone to no end of trouble to help. If they can't find a replacement arm, he'll use special UV resistant glue which should work. The trouble is that being genuine Christian Dior, they have a special fixture which shows they're the real deal and you just can't shove any old arm on. So raspberries to OPSM, I'll be going here from now on.

Saw the Estate Agent today. Lordy, what a business but she said not to try and fix anything or spend money, the house will sell as is, for land value. Just a couple of papers from the solicitor and the sign goes up next week. She's hopeful that it will sell before Christmas with a settling at the end of February. We only have to move some of the big furniture out to show the space. She's looking for a tradie who will fix the old place up or someone who will knock it down and build a 2 storey town house. She was very delicate about the knocking down bit but we agreed to swing the first hammer blow. Even the BrickOutHouse said he'd rather see it pulled down than see someone else living there.

So it's shopping tomorrow, mother and lunch on Sunday, dentist on Monday, solicitor on Tuesday or Wednesday and Southland for mother's banking on Thursday. Friday I get to scratch myself. People with cars don't realize how long it takes to get anywhere by walking and busing. My feet are already hurting.

FOOD MEME PART THREE

11. If your partner could take you to any restaurant, where would you go?

Anywhere with comfortable seating, preferably banquettes. Anywhere they discreetly roll out the pastry wagon (not trolley, I know what I mean). No place where I can see slabs of meat being slapped on hot coals or somewhere that has a tank of fish for the choosing. So I'd have to say, a pastry shop with good coffee and banquette seating and a set of scales in the doorway that only weighs going in.



12. Soup or salad?

I only enjoy Heinz tomato soup when I'm crook so it's salad all the way. Potato salad with fresh mint, Greek salad with kalamata olives and creamy feta cheese, Coleslaw with pineapple, Rice salad with sultanas and grated carrot and toasted almonds. I have to stop I'm chewing on my arm.



13. Buffet, take-out or sit down?

Not the Buffet. A fat person going to the Buffet table is watched by every anorexic tart in the place. I'm not kidding, you can feel the hunger vibes with every spoonful.

Take-out is great but not if you don't have a car. The take-out ends up breeding salmonella by the bucket load if you have to walk it home.

Sit down take-out Buffet with a butler handing me the silver service, draping the Egyptian 500 thread cotton serviette round my neck and programming the DVD for a Harry Potter marathon is my idea of a good night.



14. What's the most impressive meal you've ever made?

A full Indian, Sri Lankan Thai banquet which was ruined by a political discussion turning violent with most of the guests of a differing political persuasion attacking the host.

And that was before they got stuck into the booze. Most of the neighbours have now upwardly mobiled themselves far far away but I bet they're still as boorish and rude as they were that night.



15. Do you consider yourself a good cook?

I used to be but now I consider myself an excellent reader of cook books and cake blogs. Any morning I can boil the eggs to perfection and get them out of the pot without dropping them in the sink is a good morning.



16. Do you know what vichyssoise is?

It's French. Something to do with potatoes, leeks and chicken stock and you can serve it cold.

There's something horribly wrong with cold soup.



17. Who's your favourite TV cook?

It has to be two, Simon Bryant and Maggie Beer. I love what they do with the most incredible ingredients and they tell you about them, where they're grown and who grows them. I just close my eyes when they go to choose some clucker, moo or bah for the chop. It's all very well to tell me that they've lived a happy free range life and death was peaceful but slapping a slab of meat on the counter when I'm still out there free ranging isn't my bag.



18. Can you name 3 famous cooking personalities?

Stephanie Alexander, bless her for the school vegetable garden scheme.

Margaret Fulton, who started my passion for food when I saw her full colour cook books.

Nigella Lawson because she licks the spoon when baking a cake. She was a great favourite but the sexy cooking act is a bit too staged these days and I find her boring.



19. Home made or home made from a box.

If we're talking weetbix, it's home made from a box. Anything else from a box is useless because the instructions always say, add meat or add something else and if you can't make the dinner out of the box itself, what's the point. Home made from a bottle is something else, vegetables and bottle pasta sauce is my staple diet. ( don't mention the apple cakes)



20. I'm supposed to tag 3 more foodies but in my circle of blog friends I might be better off trying to tag 3 more boozers.

A BLUE RIBBON NOM

River said her mince pies were good

enough to eat without cream.

She's right, they're noms I could

seriously nom without cream.

I award you the Nom d'Nom Prix.

STORMY WEATHER

This photo was taken on Friday 13th November as a giant wave surges towards the 60 foot high sea wall at Porthleven in West Cornwall.



As it hits, it swamps the wall with local people saying it is the largest wave they've ever seen.

The storms hit coastal regions with a vengeance with the strongest winds of 100 mph recorded at Needles on the Isle of Wight.

THE CLICK OF A SHUTTER

From one of the best artist and photographers image blogs . I can't say who the photographer was since google decided not to translate Catalan for me. I love the symmetry not to mention the difficulty of photographing two dancers on swinging ropes but this is sheer poetry.





It's a bit too late for me to put this on my "bukkit lizt" but I dreamt of defying gravity in my younger days. Now the "bukkit lizt" has 'learn to waltz' as my only ambition. ( and staying upright while I do)

MY MOTTO FOR THE ANNUAL YULE BINGE

SIX WEEKS TO SAVE UP AND BUY ME THIS

There's no doubt about the poms having style even though the country might be drowning in debt, Harrods are flying the flag for Christmas. Gold Christmas crackers, glitter leaf, gold bows, glitter gold feathers and Christmas trees. Almost too good to rip 'em apart except for the goodies inside.

You'll have to click to see the luxe inside the crackers but I have dibs on the cloisonne enamelled box with crystals although the fine socks would keep my toes warm for winter. I haven't a clue how to work an MP3 player and I don't have pierced ears (nipple studs for Andrew?).

It's a snip at 599 quid for six.

PROGRESS REPORT

When the Bombay big blue bottle is nearing empty and looking at nekkid blokes is getting boring then I go to Su's blog and lust after the noms. I swear I could clear that plate without breaking a sweat.


Emotional crisis is easing to below hysteria level.
Financial crisis has eased thanks to lovely people who are so trusting they're prepared to wait until the selling of the house and settlement.

Still my bitching sister wants more.
Contents insurance is no more just the house is covered which saved us a grand total of $25 a month. Need I say she doesn't believe in insurance?
Monday I go to the bank with my best begging appearance and try to stop the payment of the mastercard completely until the house settlement.
All saved money will go towards the nursing home's new rates. Centrelink bastards are going to want backpay of this additional payment, right back to the day she went into care, 22nd August.

You notice who's doing all this begging and phoning, not sister and on settling day I promise myself she's going to get a mouthful.

The good ship 'Mother' sails on contentedly. Reading books, winning at Bingo and making lists of what she wants done with her worldly goods. She's off to the RSL for lunch next Friday and looking forward to the residents and family Christmas Party. I'll be sneaking in the Bombay via a water bottle.

TOO MUCH CRYING, NOT ENOUGH DROOLING

Noice isn't he? Now he's what I call heavy duty therapy.

Jayne, he has a drop of water on his jaw, you might like to come over and use that whole towell to wipe it off. I'll just stand and watch.

Kath, would you like to give a review of a good melting chocolate? I wouldn't want to drip any nasty compound stuff on him.

Andrew, you may look but not touch, the girls and I don't like fingerprints on our sweets.

I CAN'T SLEEP AND THE GIN ISN'T WORKING

Nor are the sleeping pills, the fan isn't keeping me cool and the ladder up from the pit has rungs missing.

This is all my fault. Last week I had 24 hours where I was blissfully happy, bills paid, groceries bought and enough money to buy a pair of Homeyped pewter sandals for summer. I was smiling with the happiness-o-meter off the scale.

Until I got home and picked up the thin envelope with one sheet of paper that said we had to pay and extra $24.22 a day above what Mum is paying with her pension. You've all seen those films with the earthquake making a huge crack in the ground and everything falling in which is where I've been for the last couple of days.

I've finally come to terms with her being in the home because she's so happy. I've finally put away all her ribbons and laces, given a lot to a charity group and the activity room at the home doesn't know what to make next after years of never having enough. It was a big adjustment, mentally, to see these things disappear.

Now as a Leo and a fixed fire sign, I need my house to keep me grounded. It's my pleasure palace as often as not masquerading as a rubbish dump but my treasures are in every corner. I fought to keep it when El Creepo pissed off with his tart although I offered to leave his name on the title. Generosity made me do it and getting up her nose with said generosity as 'tenants in common' meant that if he croaked she would get his half but not until I kicked the bucket but in the end he gave it to me as long as I gave up any claim to his money. My deal was better.

So today was spent appealing to Centrelink and the Department of Ageing who enjoyed using me as a shuttlecock as they each told me to contact the other. It's no dealing with them at all, the cut off point for using 85% of a pension is assets of $91,000 and so we have to pay and we don't have the money. The rent that the BrickOutHouse is paying is just keeping up with the debts mommiedearest left to us. I've called the Real Estate agent to inspect the house next week and it goes on the market as is.

It was check AGL, APIA, council rates, St George reverse mortgage, S.E. water to see if we had to pay out any account before settlement, fortunately not. Our solicitor does all of that. I still have to do a deal with the nursing home as it could be 5 months before selling and settlement and we still won't have enough money for that extra. They have put me on to a financial advisor that specializes in Aged Care trusts since I'm determined that Centrelink will not get its greedy claws into whatever is left after all the bills are paid and drop her pension down. Poor financial advisor, he won't get paid until settlement either.

I feel for my nephew. After the three years of hell his grandmother has put him through, he's had two and a half months living in a house to himself and now he has to go. It isn't fair but he's taking it okay, obviously not a Leo fixed fire sign. I don't even know if we'll be able to give him some money to get established. There's only the three of us in the family and when the house goes, we'll be broken up, memories are just memories not superglue. The 1953 house on the muddy road in the bush is now in the middle of hotshot suburbia and I don't think I'll be able to walk down that street again.

Mum is fine with it, she said on Sunday that it hadn't been her home for a long time. She did tell me to use Aitken Real Estate as she liked the man she had out to value it 10 years ago. Ten years ago, six months ago she couldn't remember her own name which is why I don't mind how much this great place costs us.

Another financial and emotional crisis.
Back soon.

FOOD MEME - PART TWO

6. What food can you so not eat?

Foie Gras. Tripe. Anything I've been introduced to. Anything I'd have to kill myself. Pig's ears, not even Nigella can make eating them sexy. Duck's feet, actually anything feet. Not even swimsuit boy in his yumminess could make me chomp on his feet.

7. You need a drink, you grab a...........

Cute waiter, well I'm thirsty and I need attention. mumble, mumble back to the meme. If it's summer then soda water with lemon and a million ice cubes. If the sun is over the yardarm then add Bombay. If it's winter, coffee with cocoa in the morning and Earl Grey tea in the afternoon. (I'se so terribly refined)
I also love fruit smoothies at any time but the kilojules would bust a diet in the manner of Humpty Dumpty, never to be put back together.

8. What's the most decadent dish you've every had?

Ooh, there was that time we used that sweet thing as a serving platter for Petit Fours using his navel for a sugar basin for the tea. What? I see, cooked dish. Damn, I don't think I've ever had a decadent dish. Does eating fish and chips out of clean white paper instead of newsprint count?

I did eat one of those enormous ice-cream sundaes with 5 flavours, chopped nuts, raspberry, chocolate and passionfruit syrup. It was when the City Square went all underground with lounge chairs, for which the homeless were eternally grateful, and they had an American type ice-cream parlor. The sundae came in an 8 inch tall champagne type plastic container.

9. What's your favourite type of food?

Nothing that's moving. Nothing I have to eat with chopsticks. Nothing I have to share with anybody. Something I can eat with fingers in front of the teev or with one fork and one dish. Nothing on bamboo skewers, everything falls off after the first bite.

10. Favourite dish.

Do you have an hour to read this? I've already done bread, pavlova, chocolate, ice-cream.
I do love pasta with a yum sauce especially papardelle pasta. I never eat pasta outside, in public or on a first date. It is an anti-social dish best eaten with a tea towell and painting drop sheet. I have never yet eaten a whole dish without dropping half down the cleavage. It also has to have three cheeses (kilojules again) parmesan, romano and cheddar. Don't forget the garlic and herb bread for mopping up.

You see why I'm doing this in parts? The hunger, I'm like a vampire on speed when reading food blogs especially the cake blogs. It's a blessing I've become too lazy to cook, looking at the pictures is enough. And, weighing oneself in the bathroom instead of the bedroom drops the scales out of the redwarningdanger by 2kgs. W00T!

FOOD MEME - PART ONE

I have to do this in stages or I'll end up sobbing. The scales were most unkind this morning probably something to do with humidity affecting the internal workings of the machine. Anyway, chocolate, ice-cream, apple cakes (sob) and anything else remotely pleasurable is verboten.

1. What's your No. 1 comfort food?

I know you lot, you're all thinking chocolate, right? Wrong, it's bread. Gorgeous wonderful bread in all its varieties especially straight from the oven. And with butter, which I'm not allowed to have but occasionally sneak onto a bread anything. Is there anything more delicious than a sausage with fried onions and tomato sauce on a thick slab of fresh white bread? Sanatarium make tofu sausages that almost equal the meat sausages so I recommend them. There's a shop in Hampton that bakes huge blocks of Turkish bread, divine. Cheese bread with olives and tomatoes......... I'm dying here.

2. If you were stranded on a desert island, what 5 foods would you want to have with you to survive on?

All the fixings to make bread.
Chocolate.
Butter for the bread.
Ice-cream to put the chocolate on.
Gin. Bombay Sapphire is too a food especially if it has a lemon in it.

3. What are your signature dishes (what dishes are you known for making)?

I had signature dishes once when I used to cook. It makes me tired just to think about them.
I used to make tiny meatballs wrapped in bacon, on a bed of rice, covered with a tomato sauce and sliced stuffed olives.
I used to make a Christmas cake full of fruit full of booze but not ordinary booze, Tia Maria which gave it a coffee kick.
Then there was the year (talk about Julie and Julia) where I cooked my way through Charmaine Solomon's Asian cookbook. I even made my own coconut milk and hand ground the spices.
My signature dish is now bread and jam and ice-cream with melted chocolate, okay two signature dishes.

4. It's Friday, you don't know what to cook, you opt for......

Chips. If I want to be fancy, chip butties. If I've forgotten to buy spuds, it's butties anything that hasn't died in the fridge. I know chips come under cooking but if you can cook it in your sleep, technically it isn't cooking.

5. What's your ultimate food weakness?

Pavlova. Coffee pavlova, plain pavlova with cream and passionfruit, praline pavlova with chocolate cream, anything pavlova. I'm like a truffle pig, I can sniff out a pav within three miles.
At a buffet, I start at the Pavlova end and finish there. Crispy shell on the outside, luscious marshmallow melting centre, whipped cream and raspberries with drizzled melted chocolate. If only they made blokes like this, I could get to like sex again.

OMENS FOR THE BIG RACE

There are plenty, too many to pick the winner which I never do.
There was that enormous thunderstorm on Thursday night, a light show that went on for an hour and teeming rain.

I like a shower at night but I'm canny in a thunderstorm, I light a candle in the bathroom. It's very Hitchcock to be in the middle of a shower when the lights go out.
What I didn't need was a factory alarm to short and continue wah-wahing until 4.30 in the morning.

More thunder on Friday night, more rain and lightning. No sleeping so I turned the computer on and surfed until the wee small hours. Back to bed and drifting to sleep when 'the noise' went off under my bedroom window. Not a cat fight, not a possum fight but a lost duck. The duck family have taken up residence in the pool across the road but this one must have faulty GPS to land under my window and if it flew in, it could fly out. Just another noise in the catalogue of things to fright about.

Mother rang to say she'd paid for my Sunday lunch at the home. Now that's blackmail, who can resist a free meal. Luckily the apple cake bakery is open all day on a Sunday.

A lot of omens but I couldn't find a horse that suited any of them and as much as I would like to see Bart win another Cup, I really want the longest priced outsider horse to win. That's what makes the Cup great, the uncertainty.

SING LOUDLY 'OH WHAT A NIGHT!' WOO-AH

Halloween, my night of nights

A yearly bath in some noxious moat water

and a touch of Eau de Swamp

My best royal purple rig

It goes so precious with my complexion

A bit of a brew up with the ghorls
We make a mean proof gin
This year we didn't dissolve the cauldron
Forgot the olives


Flight home was a bit bumpy
But coming in on a broom and a prayer
A Halloween tradition



Bloody Igor! Two instructions only
Let the bats out
Leave the drawbridge down
If the ghoul had half a brain it
would be lonely
Wait, he has only half a brain
Sold the other half to
that looney doctor down the hill
for some science experiment

Well that's it for another year
Done me broom licence
Six months
Didn't think the brew was that strong
Bloody Igor
All Saints Day now
Damn ringing bells
Head aches

THERAPY - BREATHE - DROOL- BREATHE AND REPEAT

Don't those legs go up a long way.

All the way up to that lovely chest.

Nice shorts, I love to unwrap my presents.

Yep, you can definitely bathe him in rose

water and drag him to my tent

in chains at midnight.

THE TIDE IS TURNING

I can see the carpet apart from cake crumbs, bits of lace, shredded paper and a layer of dust.
I can almost get the doors closed on the lace cupboard.
I have six empty plastic boxes and enough empty plastic bags for 12 months of garbage.

And I can't stand Mozart.

I'm going through 40 CDs of mum's music, most of it Mozart, before I turf the lot to the op-shop.

Listening to 10 minutes of Mozart a day is supposed to be calming to the nerves and increase the brain power of children. *raspberries*

But I feel obliged to listen just once to something that she adores.

She wants the Requiem played at her funeral.

This means I have to keep listening til I find it.

The only way to get rid of a Mozart earworm is to play the 1812 Overture, loudly.

DEFINITION OF A HYPOCRITE

That's a person who's reading every word in the WeightWatchers magazine while snarfing the whole box of Cadbury's Favourites because they were half price in Coles and they tripped me up as I walked past.

I need them, stress is becoming a way of life and chocolate de-stressing is the only way I can cope.

Trotted off to the Pink Ribbon afternoon tea, caught the bus so up there to Agoraphobia but found the old girl in bed again. A reaction to the huge dose of penicillan to clear her lung infection. Her right leg from knee to ankle had come up in a red swelling. I sat with her and missed all the pink cake which is why the Favourites managed to trip me up on the way home.

The phone hasn't rung so she's still on the planet but I have to break my rule of not seeing her on Sunday and go down tomorrow. Did I mention that this blog was going back to posting serious science stuff? Dreaming, wasn't I!

I NEED MORE DE-STRESSING

I think I might have been a bit naive to think that with mother being in a nice safe place it would make life easier for the family, more importantly me.

I saw her on Monday, lording it over the craft activities, waited while she had lunch and wheeled her down to Bingo.

Sister saw her yesterday around 3 o'clock and she was gleeful as she'd sold one of the boxes she'd made in craft. She did say she'd had a pain in the head the night before and hot and cold sweats but she felt fine.

By 8 o'clock she was deathly ill. An undiagnosed urinary tract infection and fluid in the bottom of the right lung but the nurses were onto it pretty quickly and had a doctor there sharpish. Sister went down and stayed until mum went to sleep because she refused to go to hospital, which is her right. The staff said they'd ring if her condition worsened. They did say she was an "uncomfortable colour", sister said she was whiter than white.

Today she was a lot better but with more antibiotics to take which didn't stop her giving orders about a certain piece of lace she'd like and she knows I've got it. I swear she'll be giving orders to the driver of the hearse. At least she doesn't have a phone beside the bed and I might get some sleep tonight. Her colour was still in the white zone but up from "uncomfortable" to pale.

But this shows how quickly a UTI can take hold of someone who's immune system is down when even my sister the nurse didn't notice anything wrong. With another hot summer coming up, anyone looking out for their oldies should take notice of any odd behaviour or confusion and make their doctor test for infection.

WHEN THERAPY IS GOOD

Therapy is good when he is the therapy.

Just look at those green eyes.

I could dive off his nose and drown in those eyes.

If that's a whistle around his neck,

he only has to blow,

he knows how to blow,

just puts his lips together.

JUST POPPED IN

I am very tired, the kind of tired that brings a total meltdown.

I have two ravens sitting on the fence outside the study window. Ravens are good omens, when they fly away they are supposed to take your troubles with them. They haven't gone yet, they're just sitting there looking in the window, watching me. It's getting very Alfred Hitchock around here.

I did have a post that should have been up last week. The curse of the Hope Diamond strikes again. It's not anywhere, not in drafts nor scheduled posts. Blogger ate my post.

My family ate my brain. I'm letting them walk all over me in an effort to avoid confrontation but the fuse is getting very short.

I'll be back soon or I'll send a raven from the padded cell.

FOR PEOPLE WHO OPEN BIRTHDAY PRESENTS ON THE WRONG DAY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HAWTANDREW

I hired a Butler for the day just to open

this gem.

From Dalmore Distillery's 1951 Sirius Vintage

single malt whiskey with a cask strength of 45%

10,000 English quid a bottle

I don't stint for friends

I see someone already gave you a nice tray

but this one is much better for holding the glass.

You see what I mean, frightfully modern but perfect
for the tray.

You've had a balloon ride so
I bought you a yacht.


And a sailor.
I would have wrapped him
but the paper kept getting wet
and falling apart.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

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.