There'll be an exam on this!

The albatross was immortalized in Samual Taylor Coleridge's famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner but these birds have always been watched by sailors. They don't so much as fly as soar across the waves in a swoopping flight pattern upwind in wind speeds of 10 to 20 knots.

Albatrosses spend the majority of their long lives above the ocean. By the age of 50, an albatross has typically flown at least 1.5 million miles. The adults routinely fly hundreds of miles to gether food before returning to feed their chicks. The lucky ones make it, the unlucky die trying to grab the bait on the miles of long hooked fishing lines. Their wingspans can reach up to 12 feet but they rarely flap their wings

Phil Richardson, a retired oceanographer but still at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, has studied the aerodynamics of the birds which can fly in any direction including into the wind without losing speed or steadiness in flight and with no wing flapping.

With his knowledge of sailing, gliding and his work with the movement of ocean currents, he began to look closely at the albatross.

Richardson came up with a theory involving the interaction between wind and ocean. In the trough of waves, there is little wind, because the waves block it. But above the waves and their troughs, winds blow briskly across the ocean in thin layers. Lower layers are slowed by air-sea friction near the ocean surface, but winds speeds increase as you go farther from the surface and higher up.

He concluded that albatrosses needed a minimum wind speed of 7 knots to soar and calculated that they could soar upwind at a speed of 12 knots. An albatross ascending from a wave trough at an angle would encounter progressively faster winds increasing its speed in the air as a burst of kinetic energy that enables it to climb to heights of 10 to 15 metres. (Hello, are you still with me) It then makes a tight turn downwind and swoops into another wave trough, adding airspeed as it descends through the wind sheer into progressively slower winds. Each addition of airspeed balances the loss of energy caused by drag on the bird. The albatross keeps up this cycle and each swoop cycle takes about 10 seconds. (a heck of a lot shorter than it took me to understand this).

This phenomenon is called dynamic soaring and glider pilots know it well. Richardson still didn't know how they flew upwind but being a sailor it came to him that the birds were tacking as ship's sails do. He went back to his model and calculated that the fastest course upwind for an albatross is to tack about 30 degrees to the right and left of the wind. He observed that the birds climb upwind but often dive perpendicular to the wind to maximize their average velocity in an upwind direction. (WAKE UP, this is interesting)

Of course the military are interested in all forms of flight dynamics at a small scale, using bird, bat and insect flight as models for the development of autonomous drones for use in war zones. They already have them but want better ones, don't they always?

"Great albatross! The meanest birds

Spring up and flit away,

While thou must toil to gain a flight,

And spread those pinions gray;

But when they once are fairly poised,

Far o'er each chirping thing

Thour sailest wide to other lands,

E'en sleeping on the wing."

Perserverando by Charles Godfrey Leland

Now for Easter

SOTHEBY'S WILL SELL THE MOST VALUABLE EMERALD AND DIAMOND TIARA TO HAVE APPEARED AT AUCTION IN OVER 30 YEARS IN ITS SALE OF MAGNIFICENT AND NOBLE JEWELS IN GENEVA ON 17.MAY.

ESTIMATED TO SELL FOR A RECORD £3.1-6.2 MILLION, THE HIGHLY IMPORTANT AND EXTREMELY RARE EMERALD AND DIAMOND TIARA IS COMPOSED OF 11 EXCEPTIONALLY RARE COLOMBIAN EMERALD PEAR-SHAPED DROPS WHICH WEIGH OVER 500 CARATS IN TOTAL.

THE EMERALDS ARE ALSO BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN IN THE PERSONAL COLLECTION OF EMPRESS EUGENIE.

THE SUPERB TIARA WAS COMMISSIONED, POSSIBLY FROM THE RENOWNED JEWELERS CHAUMET, BY GUIDO COUNT VON HENCKEL, FIRST PRINCE VON DONNERSMARCK FOR HIS SECOND WIFE PRINCESS KATHARINA. THE JEWELRY COLLECTION OF THE DONNERSCARCKS WAS KNOWN TO BE ON PAR WITH, OR EVEN TO HAVE EXCEEDED, THOSE OF MANY OF THE CROWNED HEADS OF EUROPE.

Now since I'm off chocolate, this would make a very nice Easter present. I have two green velvet gowns and a four strand pearl necklace with an emerald and diamond clasp. I could just see me sitting in the drawing room wearing this, downing a bottle of Cristal Champagne and watching "The Wedding". My invitation must have been mislaid in the mail.

It's been a long week.

This should be me, dressed in my favourite velvet, out in the garden, calm, peaceful, at one with nature without the garden crawlers. Damn millipedes are everywhere and I hate them.
My computer monitor decided it had had enough of life and was shrinking rapidly inwards and it would have lasted another month or two. Monday morning the BrickOutHouse, went out and came home with a flat screen monitor for me. Well, that's been fun. I've gone from a TV to an IMAX and being not technical at all, it's taken until today to get the resolution right even with reading the instructions. You know what I'm like with instructions, dyslexic. I had the fonts on standard type which was fine for the small monitor but this monster needed clear type and I think I'm right now.
The other is sitting on the floor behind me. I feel sorry that I didn't have time to tell him he was being disassembled. The flat screen is letting in so much light from the window that I can see how filthy with dust the keyboard is. Great, more vac'ing with the attachments that go over the the front of the hand held vac.
For months I've been telling BOH to bring in his clothes from the car. That would be the small car that is now belonging to someone else and he has a silver station wagon because I was having trouble getting in and out of the small car. You've all seen the 20 clowns getting out of a VW, so you get the picture. So the clothes, filled a double bed and how he had them in a small car would compare to protein folding. I've even washed his hammock and by the time all the socks were dried and put together, I only had 4 orphans left. Anything with more holes than T-shirt went to the bin, quietly, in a black plastic bag where he couldn't see them. Of course, being male he didn't bring them in on the first sunny days of the week, it was on the first rain day we had. There's nothing like blankets and jumpers that have been out in the rain and sun for days, lovely smell.
Now my sister and I have been telling him for ages about the chemicals he works with and how they get into his clothes and to get overalls. Never took a gnat's notice, hence the burn holes in shirts from welding and horrible chemical smells in fabric. Luckily for me, Woolies had a 3kg container of Oxyaction on sale this week. After all the washing was finished I hauled him out to look in the stainless steel sink, at the layer of chemical sludge on the bottom. Thank you Oxyaction. His clothes are neatly stacked in a bookcase and his very good clothes are in the wardrobe where he'd never think to look. I highly recommend putting men's clothes in bookcases, where they don't have to expend energy opening and shutting doors, even his shoes are stacked on the bottom shelf. His back op was a great success but he still can't bend over to tie his shoelaces, that's a no-no.
In the middle of this was shopping, two days with mother and a lovely time at the Optus shop with a salesman who was in great danger of having a mobile phone shoved down his throat. This is a shop, it sells Optus stuff, it has customers who pay for sales, it does not need a patronising imbecile behind the new shiny counter. Yes, I could have done all this by phone or internet but I wanted it done instore and on the spot. No, I didn't care that there was a queue out the door because Optus is too cheap to put on more salespeople. The new sim card is in the phone, credits are on the phone but the calls go straight to mailbox so I believe the little creep has done it deliberately. Now I have to go down to the home and fix it or I'll have her sisters ringing me thinking she's dead.
And the vacuum cleaner is still sitting in the middle of the lounge but it has been used for 10 minutes. I got the dust out of the fire, lit the pilot light without a hitch and managed to shut the door without breaking anything. Now that I've been so brilliant with this monitor, I'm going to have a shot at hooking up the DVD to the big TV, something the BOH would do in five minutes and he'll probably have to.

He knows me so well.

But not well enough Sedgwick.

How dare you sully

my Bombay Sapphire

with lemon!

But it is true that there is

one ripening lime

on my tree.

One more day of sun

should do it.

Jewells for No-one

Plique-a-jour dragonfly with a few diamonds, aquamarine and gold.
Another dragonfly but with rubies and gold.

And just one more, diamonds, platinum, rubies, gold and Peridots.

No fighting, it's not ladylike but when was this blog ladylike.

Now this is really weird

I've been de-cluttering, again, again and more but this article is only June 2010.
I don't know about other bloggers but I have my blog, sign on password and how to get to blogger written down for my executor. After all I don't want you lot to wonder where I am and I would like lots of wailing and rending of clothes and virtual roses if I happen fall in a hole permanently.

But there are sites on Teh Interwebs that will do it all for you.

mylastemail.com enables you to leave letters, photos or video messages for friends and family, as well as write your own obituary. (What a work of fiction I could write)

deathswitch.com. Imagine you die with a secret that you longed to reveal. (OMG who was on the grassy knoll?) Deathswitch is an automated system that prompts you for your password on a regular basis. If you repeatedly fail to respond, it assumes you have died and emails pre-scripted messages to nominated addresses.

legacylocker.com lets you create a master list of usernames and passwords for all your online accounts and social networking sites. Once your death has been verified by Legacy Locker, the list will be emailed to a named beneficiary.

seppukoo.com. Samurai warriors preferred to commit ritual suicide rather than allow themselves to be captured by enemies. Seppukoo.com enables you to commit "virtual suicide" by deleting your facebook account - or at least it did until a legal wrangle with Facebook, though the service hopes to be up and running again soon.

slightlymorbid.com. Now this is for me considering my executor is totally computer illiterate.
This service enables users to consolidate all their online contacts, allowing a trusted third party to contact them in the event of your demise.

Doesn't mention virtual roses. I can see it now, site after site of my devoted blog pals displaying virtual roses for my virtual glory and by the time I leave I expect they'll have virtual perfume.
I wonder how much to start a website?

I'm trying to ignore the earthquake in the room

Somehow I'm often disappointed in how Argyle Pink diamonds are set but here I think they got it right. This is the Shalimar Ring which features 4.86 Carats of Argyle Pink diamonds with a 1.25 carat pink round diamond centrepiece. It was last valued at $2 million but as they say, if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it. It's my favourite flower shape for a ring. I have a birthday in July, if you're interested.

Stylish, moi?

Poor Elephant's Child won't think of me as stylish by the time I've finished with her elegant meme, the rules of which I've forgotten already.
Link back to EC, done.

Next was 7 things about me. Bwahahahahha.
1. I lie about my weight, age and hair colour.
2. I swear theraputically which means I swear a lot.
3. Naked men in love scenes at the movies make me hysterical with laughter. As dear Sir Robert Helpman once said, some things just don't stop swinging.
4. With the scars and wrinkles I have, you could play snakes and ladders on my body and you wouldn't even lose the counter in my navel, I don't have one.
5. I cannot be hypnotised. I meant by persons, the hypnotic siren call of a magnum dark chocolate ice-cream is an entirely different proposition.
6. I was an alibi for an underbelly style of debt collection by a smooth operator in a 3 piece Italian suit.
7. I'm not particularly fond of babies, lethal weapons that fire at both ends. I don't know why the CIA needed rendition, when anyone stuck in a room full of screaming babies would confess to anything.

15 blogs, you're kidding! Now everyone knows I never do these things the right way so come on my magical mystery tour.
Oh dear, River I remember from my dial-up days that this blog has waiting time but worth for the genius of the artist.
Kath, because of the rotten year she had, this site is for Sapphire .
For the crafties, wander around here and save yourself the price of their magazines.
Jayne, the feral beast will just love this and you will want to break my fingers.
How about a bit of X-File type fun with the spooky and mysterious .
Most of us wouldn't have a blog if we didn't like reading so a visit to the Queen of mystery writers dear Aggie herself. This is a treat to catch up on the not on TV series.
A walk down memory lane for Elephant's Child and the rest of us can just dream about it.
There's always someone in our life that we'd love to blow up, smother or bury so hurry here and do it. You know you want to.
After that you'll need to settle back and contemplate the universe and open a beer, make mine a Cascade Light.
Another site that doesn't relate to Australia but is an ignored era of history in the United States. Don't miss a post of this blog.
Have a feel for the world at large, then here's a new way of looking at it.
Miss O'Dyne would never forgive me if I missed putting in the ultimate eccentric Gavin P-P.
Like to go back in time (I wouldn't, no dunnies, pfft) but reading about it is just as good , actually better.
Lordy, is that the time? I must go, the sun is over the yardarm somewhere.

Wild sharks

Is that a mouth or what? Now down to the scientific, sharks follow their noses to find prey but they only use one nostril at a time. They head in the direction of the first nostril that copped a whiff of noms even if the other nostril detects a higher concentration of the odor.

The problem of hunting by odor is that odors do not travel through the ocean in a straight line like me to Donut King. The scent breaks up into pieces, floating to different levels, being mixed by water currents so timing is all. The shark hits an odor trail at an angle rather than straight on so by turning in the direction of the 'first whiff nostril' the shark will automatically steer into the ordor patch. And the timing? The difference in timing when each nostril catches a scent can be as small as a tenth of a second.

So if you're hoping their timing is off, here comes the second line of nom finding. They have a sensitive organ called a lateral line, which runs the length of their bodies and picks up vibrations in the water. Functioning in a similar way to the hairs on our skin (are yours standing up right now) but more sensitive, it measures minuscule water flow differences and combined with sense of smell allows the shark to track the odor patches straight to the source.


And even if you think you can out swim those teeth and make it to the boat, look at this photo carefully. The Great White is out of the water and in flight so you could be halfway up the outboard ladder and crunchlunch. This photo was taken at False Bay near Cape Town and it was hard finding one that didn't have a seal, porpoise or bloke in its gob. It brings to mind the immortal words of Chief Brody, "We're gunna need a bigger boat".

Bears in the wild

Don't ever google for photos of a Kodiak or any other bear. It's bad enough that idiots want to go out and shoot them for fun but do they have to post photos of their moronic delight. I only went one page in case I came across Sarah Palin wearing that Stars and Stripes bikini cradling her shotgun.

He's sweet though, the one I found for this post although I do hope he might have had a chomp or two on a hunter like a Blue Whale nudging a "research vessel".

Chris Palmer was a producer of wildlife programmes but he's now dumped the bucket on the behind the scenes of such shows. Wild wolves are just as likely to be rented from a game farm.
And the bears. Scenes of bears feeding on a dead elk....looks great but the bears were probably rented and the frenzy over the elk, well that was probably due to the fact that stuffing an elk carcass with jelly beans was sure to attract attention. A bit like putting our Kath in the middle of a chocolate factory.

Even (you may start swearing now Miss O'Dyne) David Attenborough had to admit that film of a polar bear supposedly giving birth in the wild was shot in a zoo.

I think that those shots of huge sharks leaping out of the ocean off the coast of South Africa would have to be legit unless a few sticks of gelignite got tossed around. Next thing you know someone will be telling me that people on Facebook tell lies. I'm an innocent in this world.

I wonder how many jelly beans can be stuffed in an elk?

Memo to self: don't take jelly beans to Alaska.

Language

Say 'Skyscraper' and everyone thinks of the Empire State Building or the Chrysler Building but it started life as something completely different.
It was an English naval term - a high light sail to catch the breeze in calm conditions.
It was the name of the Derby winner in 1788, after which tall houses became generally called skyscrapers.
Later it was a kind of hat, then slang for a very tall person. The word arrived in America as a baseball term, meaning a ball hit high in the air.
Now its world meaning is a very tall building.

And why am I giving you all these trivia winning facts? I'm trying to keep my brain active. According to health experts (blows loud disgusting raspberry sound) (nomm, raspberries) being obese could not only lead to the usual blah blah conditions costing all the healthy people a zillion zlotniks to keep us alive but now the fatty bombahs are first in line for Alzheimers. I swear if a damn big meteorite hit earth, the last words we'd hear would be, "The fatties did it, the fatties did it!"

Holiday in Hawaii

This is the Pu'u O'o crater on Kilauea where a fissure eruption started when the floor of the crater collapsed. The fissure is approximately 1,605 feet long. There were 150 small earth quakes recorded within Kilauea in the last 24 hours.



Along with the lava fountains 65 feet in the air, there is the danger of lethal sulphar dioxide gas around the eruption area. The best way to see the eruption is from someone else's photographs.

A Stylist's work is never done

Now this is what I like. Lovely lace, colour will go with the shoes, pink diamond will shine and the whole outfit can be upsized from this stick insect to bloggerbums. Forget the flowing white silk River , this is it, the one.

Don't you love it when it all comes together.

Yes, Yes, I've found the perfect shoes for the clutch

but now I'll have to find a bloke because clutching

is what I'd be doing trying to walk in these

but aren't they divine

and they have bows.

I'm in love.

I couldn't find the bloke.

But I did find a bit o' bling to go with the clutch. I'm a sucker for teardrop shape gems but the Rose of Dubai diamond is quite sweet. It's a Fancy Pink internally-flawless diamond of 25.05 carats. It was last sold at Christie's New York for US$6,008,00.00 in 2005 but how much is it worth 5 years later. Enough to hold its own with the bag I'd say, clutch I meant not this bag.

All I need is a party.

And the shoes to go with this but I can't think of one bloke that would come up to this standard.

The legendary house of Mouawad (remember that jewelled bra for Victoria's Secret) that is famous for its jewels and diamonds has yet again made news with its diamond studded handbag that has been claimed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the most expensive handbag.

Priced at $3.8 million this clutch has 4517 diamonds (105 yellow, 56 pink and 4356 and is crafted in 18k Gold. It's called the 1001 Nights Diamond purse and took artisans 1,100 hours and 4 months to create and weighs in with 381.92 carats on a base of 18 Karat gold.

Jayne, River, would you like to borrow it for the Sydney Bloggers Conference?

To be in London now!

A long visit to the Natural History Museum's Vault and a lot of drooling over this sweet dream.
It's large, just the right size to rest upon my ample breast. It's the Cora Sun-Drop diamond and 110 carats of vivid yellow. The unusual colour stems from the very small percentage of nitrogen within the carbon structure of the stone. Diamonds with such a strong saturated colour represent only a tiny percentage of all natural diamonds so 110 carats of such vivid luxury is priceless.
U.S. diamond manufacturer Cora International has lent the gem to the museum for a limited time in a display which includes the Devonshire Emerald.


The Vault is a permanent gallery at the Natural History Museum and shows some of the most rare, unique and valuable treasures from around the world.
The Devonshire Emerald has 1,383.93 carats and is one of the biggest and most famous uncut emeralds in the world. It originates from the mines of Muzo in Colombia. Emperor Dom Pedro the First of Brazil gave the emerald to the 6th Duke of Devonshire in 1831. You can see a small piece of the original limestone it grew on, at the base.



Now this is not to be messed around with. It's known as the purple sapphire, the Heron-Allen amethyst was looted during the Indian mutiny in 1855 and brought to Britain. Everyone who owned the amethyst since that time suffered disaster and misfortune.
According to Edward Heron-Allen, owner of the stone from 1890, it was 'cursed and stained with blood'.
After discovering its sinister history, he gave it to his bank with instructions for it not to be opened until three years after his death. The stone was donated to the museum by Heron-Allen's daughter, with a letter he wrote warning anyone against handling it.

I think I'll stick with the diamond this time around.

Unfortunately.....

Our UberModel doesn't look any better front on in that dress although it's my kind of dress.
But the boots, ewww! I think they might have had to tie that bow extra tight in case of wardrobe malfunction. Now I could wear this although there might be bulging above and beyond the nifty bow but I could hide a very large backside in those voluminous folds

We gasp but it's just tragic

No name for this itsy model but since she's not likely to make it through to next year's fashion show, the designer probably doesn't care. Designer clothes are supposed to be for wealthy women not for anorexic stick insects with knees that look as though they would shatter if they knocked together. Those are bad tooth pick legs.

This is Martyna Budna, walking the fashion shows of 2011 and much in demand. As the Daily Mail report said, if one got bored, one could always count her ribs.

Same Daily Mail reporter said that Hannah Hardy's hips could grate cheese and I might say the same about her face. If she knocks those knees together, sparks could fly. Bloody awful frock. I never thought I'd say this but Vic Beckham's designs look classic beside this.

But here we have the most in-demand model for this season. Chloe Memisevic looking for her next meal, a glass of water. Despite cries from all model agencies that their models are being looked after and watched for signs of anorexia, it looks as though some are slipping through the cracks, in Chloe's case, literally. Designers are clamouring for her to walk the walk for them.

I can't understand why, when I would be so distracted by her skeletal figure that the gowns would have to be flashing neon signs before I noticed. As for the clod hopping platform soled shoes, no wonder they're laced up, clipped on and buckled otherwise the models would step out of them, not being able to lift the weight.

My doctor has sent me a letter telling me about all the people who are now going to try and control my life because of a few BSL readings (good luck to them) and I think I'll take photos of these with me and ask them how the anorexic epidemic is going. I am not making light of this terrible mental illness either but until fashion designers face up to the fact they are making role models for a body image that's not attainable by any means except starvation then the world can stop de-crying the obesity epidemic.

It's nearly over and it hardly seems right

Is this right? Another week and summer will be over and it will be autumn, just my favourite time of year because it cools down from summer.

Frosty mornings and balmy afternoons. I know time is supposed to fly but not gallop.
Miserable mozzies still plague us but I have never seen so many lovely dragonflies, not for many years.

Of course, I have my own dragon who flies.

Books and expense

As sorry as I am for the workers at Borders and A&R, I'm still getting my books from the Book Depository or Dirt Cheap books or book sales or the op shop.

I needed a book on Low GI foods and the website suggested Dymocks. I go to Dymocks but they only had the book in their Sydney stores. Price $24.95
I went to Borders, they would order it in for me from their overseas supplier and I would receive it in the mail between 12 and 14 days. Price $24.95

So I thought if they are going to their overseas supplier, I might as well go to mine.
The Book Depository had this book and all the others in the series, $15.10, despatched in 48 hours and I received it in the mail in 3 days.

In an A&R book sale I bought the last two books of a trilogy and because it was an old release I knew I didn't have a hope of finding the first but the Book Depository had it, $10.95 and I had it 3 days later.

I love books, especially my big jewellery books. The last two from the BD were about the Russian Nobility and their jewells and the crown jewells of the Czars. I've never seen them in bookstores here and I don't think I'd get them for the price I paid, somewhere in the region of $170 for both. Every page is a treasure. So a pox on all publishers who are demanding that we pay GST on overseas purchases. Books should never have had GST on them anyway.

There's a full moon rising

Each full moon during the year has a traditional name in different human cultures. February's full moon is best known as the Wolf Moon among some Native American tribes.

The Algonquian peoples of North America called it the Snow Moon. Other names are Hunger Moon, Storm Moon, and Candles Moon. In Hindi it is known as Magh Poornima. Its Sinhala (Buddhist) name is Navam Poya.

The official time of the full moon this month is Feb. 18 at 8:36 Universal Time. The full moon takes place at exactly the same time everywhere in the world, but the local time depends on the time zone.

This is also the only time in the month when the moon is exactly opposite the sun in Earth's sky. On this date, and this date only, the moon rises as the sun sets, shines all night long, and sets as the sun rises.

The rising full moon often appears large and has an orange or red hue. The large size is an optical illusion; the moon is always the same size no matter where it is in the sky.

It's also the only full moon in the sign of Leo for this year. If the weather is good, I'll be dancing under the Leo moon and making a whole lot of wishes.

Good for the experts

The Age is trying to help with the obesity epidemic .

I'm just so thrilled with all this advice as to how I can become thin.

And the commenter who thought having obesity police was a good idea can stick it in his lap band.

Teens do spend more time sitting on their backsides but considering the work load for high school now, they couldn't do any less.

And sport? Great if you love sport but not all love sport, Goddess knows I tried but I have a phobia about being hit with hard balls, bats and other sweaty bodies. If they had had a swimming competition with first to the bottom of the pool, I'd be gold.

I'm waiting for segregration in cafes. Slobs on this side, healthy skinny poles on this side.
For every skinny, there's a chubby whose drive, energy and intelligence has made them icons.
Maggie Tabberer, Maggie Beer, Margaret Fulton, Dawn French and Margaret Whitlam was no string bean but what a woman.

Obesity has never been the cause of any of my illnesses, including the minor ones I have now, but tension, panic attacks and trying to go beyond my emotional limits will probably do me in before the fat I've armoured myself with. In the last 10 years I've had two lengthy periods of peace and quiet and I've lost weight with no trouble at all. So a third era of me time is urgently needed.

And piss off the idea of obesity police.

I had one of those afternoons

Thank you Coles supermarket for making sure the rubber mat at the front door was nice and buckled for the fat lady to stick her toe under and go flying. I had a heavy bag on the shoulder and was carrying an equally heavy bag in the other hand so being balanced like a high wire walker I managed to remain upright.

It's only February

Already I have my candidate for 'Idiot of the Year' and it's not even a footballer.

Over the weekend 104 motorists were caught by police breaking road rules.

This one is in a special category of stupid.

"A man driving while eating with a knife and fork from a bowl between his legs and steering with this knees was one of 104 motorists found breaking road rules."

I'm still trying to imagine this in action. I take back the stupid, anyone multi-tasking like this should be running for Opposition Planning Minister.

His knife and fork skillz will be useful for tea at the Windsor.

I never thought I had a problem....

But it appears I have a food phobia. Now that cake up above would present no problems being snarffed by me. You see, it has colours and all the foods I don't like are white. I've never thought about it before until I was at the residents and relo's meeting at the home last week.
The chef asked if there was a meal that hadn't been offered or if anyone had a favourite that they'd like. Mother would like tripe and onions in white sauce. Well, I nearly lost me cookies with that one.

Tripe, only once and never again.
Lamb chump chops in white sauce and parsley, not in my world.
Ditto for shanks.
Tofu is on the outer for the moment but could make a return.
Cauliflower, okay without white sauce or cheesey white sauce.
Blacmange. (sp?)
Creamed rice.
White pudding. (don't even mention it's cousin, black pudding)
Egg white omlette, for goodness sake put the whole lot in and live a little.
I could not drink a glass of naked milk, even dressed with Ovaltine, it'd be a stretch.
Bread in warm milk sprinkled with sugar was a con my mother only tried once.

Now egg whites in a Pavlova is an entirely different quality of food. It's not completely white if the edges are a little browned and the cream is covered in all colours of fruit.

Vanilla ice-cream jammed in a glass with loads of coffee and some skim milk scraps across the line.

Lindt white chocolate with almonds is not a food, it's a tranquilizer, so edible.

I could really go for that cake.

Put a leash on those puppies

Thank you Miss O'Dyne for leading us to the wedding gown of the year. I do hope Hurl and Spawnie or Miss Middleton aren't web surfing for the big day.

Reminds me of that old joke, he says 'big breaths', she says, 'yeth and I'm only thixteen'.

It's like a train wreck or Tony Abbott with his mouth shut, I can't stop watching. And the rest of the gown is really nice.

Down memory lane

Down memory lane for ladies of a certain age, namely mine. This comes under the category "I can't believe they'll fall for this" but I'm sure the young and lithsome will. Does it look uncomfortable? I'm remembering how damned uncomfortable wearing this clobber was and how Pantihose became a joy forever especially as hemlines rose. Sitting on a hot vinyl train seat on the way from work meant levering oneself gently off the damn thing two stations before yours or you risked leaving behind layers of skin. Pantihose, our pride and joy and expense but worth it.

I assume that piece of pink and black excuse for knickers is a thong. The feminine equivalent of wearing a Medieaval hair shirt which was supposed to remind you of your sins as it itched, scratched and annoyed your body not to mention harbouring numerous lice, fleas and anything else it picked up.

The garter belt beloved by porn watchers and erotic writers who probably never had to wear one or if they did, had a waist and hips for it to sit on. I didn't, have a waist not write erotica (the web crawlers will love this post). The longer I walked or stood the lower the garter belt slipped. And then there were the little button things that hooked onto the stockings, always going missing to be replaced by a threepenny bit (I told you I was old) now I suppose, with a disposable income enough to buy this stuff, you'd just throw it out for another. And the stockings, fat thighs, anyone? Before stretch nylon, there wasn't. Nothing stretched over fat thighs enough to reach the hooky things which in my case explains why the garter belt rapidly descended southward with every step.

So we have pictured an annoying thong, an uncomfortable garter belt, yes it is, remember trying to do up the hooky things at the back of the thighs? The bra looks okay but not for a womanly figure. There's no support there, a middle aged set would be heading south to follow the garter belt. It's all for the young, wear this and he'll love you on Valentine's day and they'll go for it hooky, line and sinker.

Re-jigging the attitude.

Considering the vastness of blubber covering this blogger, my health isn't all that bad. No smoking, very little drinking and lately, no chocolate eating which means my blood sugar level is down to 7.1. The depression which has been dogging me is snivelling in a corner somewhere, no doubt it'll be back as soon as I get up enough courage to weigh myself.

But yesterday gave me some perspective. My cousin, who I still think of as a child, has been diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of Alzheimer's at age 53. I kept thinking of all the things I was doing at 53 and how much I was looking forward to the years of freedom (well, that didn't happen) but not Alzheimer's. I mean it's an old people's disease, old, old people get it but not always and at 53, she's still bodily healthy but deteriorating mentally.

Wake up call. The body might not be the best but I remember that aches and pains are telling me to take it easy and mentally I'm still with it even if I never get the hang of Sudoku. But 53 and already back in childhood racing to disappearing point gave me a big jolt.

New photos

And not a chance of any of you ever seeing them.

They are 100% improved over the ones taken by the Dill at AustraliaPost but I had to pay an extra $4. I removed my big glasses, no heavy frames and used my reading glasses which were the same ones I wore ten years ago.

Never look at passport photos until you're on your own. Sobbing upsets other shoppers.

Hmmm. Not too shabby, same crooked smile. Last time I was allowed a small smile which helped but these days, no smiling just a fixed 'roo in the headlights' stare. My smile is really crooked on one side but then I have one ear up and one ear down which is why my glasses are always crooked, sort of evens things up.

I am comparing a 10 year old passport photo to the recent one, something is different.

OMG! I don't have a double chin anymore. My neck is actually on the scraggy side. All those falls must have triggered a fat slide southwards. If this photo gets knocked back then I'm going for one of those 'StarShots'.

I bet Joan Collins has a 'StarShot' for her passport.

Blue sky with one cloud

Just one cloud rolling past my window and it can keep going. According to the paper, we had 144mm of rain and I think half of that is still in my washing hanging on the line. The lime tree loved it though.

I now have a working cistern. It took him not more than half an hour not including the time he had to go back to Bunnings to buy a flexible hose. Then he comes out, asks if I want the box, no and goes to throw it out with the new toilet seat still in it. Apparently you can't just buy the cistern, the toilet seat comes with it and he was going to toss it because he likes the seat already there. I remind him if that breaks he'll be sitting on cold porcelain so I've stored the new seat and the pipes with it, just in case I ever need a pipe.

Next comes the old cistern. Can he put it in the recycle bin? Jeebus no, Kingston council have a habit of sneak checks on those bins but I figure shoving it in the red bin is fair enough. I just hope there's enough room for the kitty litter and the truck can lift the whole thing.

Well, I'm still on the putting away and clearing mum's things which I've been trying to finish for a year. It's a bit easier now that I can put her clothes in the op-shop bag. It takes thinking about, all this putting in place. I haven't finished the crocheted rug for the BrickOutHouse and those bundles of squares take up room but not if you put them in one of those bags and take out the air with the vac. Then it slides neatly under the lounge. Under both beds are boxes and rolls of material, all neat but removable. And when I say there is not an inch of the study to spare I'm not joking. Six bookcases, one CD tower, one table with record player, speakers underneath on which my electric typewriter sits. Table next to that holds my enormous Atlas and underneath that, magazine holders. Next to me is the sewing machine on it's wheelie table and underneath that are boxes of ribbons and sewing stuff I usually need. Next to that is the lounge chair I had to move from the dining table where I have my jewellery. It was comfortable but I couldn't get out of it, being used to a chair that swung round on wheels. Mother's old tv is on the desk, one half of which is now visible, just don't ask about the other half. Ironing basket is under the desk, it's a very wide desk so the office chair fits in front. Don't look at the magazines and papers on the floor, they're all in order, just waiting to be put away. There's a bookcase in the wardrobe full of craft stuff. There's a cupboard behind the door, phone books, files, paper on one side, vacuum cleaner on the other. Plenty of room for boxes on top of that, books and boxes on top of the bookcases, oil heater beside my computer desk and another bookcase that the CPU and scanner sits on. Chest of drawers to my right full of computer paper and on top is the printer and another office chair that I'm sitting in. I think the room measures 10 feet by 11 feet so you can see why there was a lot thinking before moving.

This has gone on in every room of the house, just to fit another person into what was the sewing room spare bedroom. He's still mystified about where all the things in the bookcase (now holding his clothes) went to, top of the linen cupboard replacing the doona covers which went to my wardrobe. What to do with the mohair rugs though? Folded they take up a lot of space but hang them on hangers in a garment bag, no worries. Now when all this is finally in place, I think I'll clean the house but I won't look in the pantry until next year.

Somewhere, someone is lighting black candles

I know you are, whoever you are. You hate me and I've done nothing to hurt you.

This year, I've mangled the toe nail, fallen over repeatedly and I do wish it was 'teh drinking', diabetes, cholesterol, blood pressure and put on weight. Well no, I haven't put on weight, that was last year, this year I haven't lost any which is supposed to fix the diabetes, cholesterol and blood pressure, none of which I swear I've got. Maybe the blood pressure but that's mother and I haven't seen her for a week so maybe that's down. Did you know you can get the blood pressure taken at the pharmacy for $3.50? Cheaper than the doc's.

And not forgetting the neighbourhood cretins overturning the wheelie bins along the entire street. Or setting the tin of fireworks off in the street. Or making loud plans outside the gate for stealing the flares from the two boats around the corner. Or throwing their empty beer bottles over my fence.

Now it's Orb season and going outdoors is a Bear Grylls adventure in terror. I just found out he is the top yob of the Boy Scouts, who'd have thought. My kid tried joining the Cubs, lasted about 6 months when he discovered the most easily obtained badge in this group was creative bullying.
I was lucky to cut back the apple tree on one side so I could get to the line without ending up someone's dinner.

I was heading somewhere with this, aha, the toilet. Half flush has been borked for about a year now and there's a big notice which says 'use full flush' which is okay since I've turned the water down but now we are a duo. When I was on my own, it would remain unflushed except for the really important business. So last night it decided to go into full Niagara Falls mode and nothing I could do would stop it except turn the damn water off completely. BrickOutHouse hearing the banging and swearing decided that he could connect a new cistern quite easily. He sets off for Bunnings tonight and comes back highly offended because they wouldn't let him in with bare feet.
Why did he think they would? So half flush is working, just. BOH's brain not so much.

And it's only February.

In order to have that Bali holiday...

Well any overseas holiday but not Bali, too hot for my delicate features. Hawaii would be nice, the volcanoes there erupt too but flow along the path of any resistance straight to the sea.

So a holiday needs a new passport and a new passport needs a current photograph. I do not look as she does up there, more like the dragon wrapped around her arm. Dill taking the photos hasn't taken any for a while, so presses the wrong button, twice. There is a queue behind me and it's hot so I'm sweating, yes a lady does indeed sweat like a hog on a BBQ when stressed.
Dill tries again, after telling me I must remove my glasses in case the lens cause a flash and my eyes aren't clearly seen, biometric ID now. Success at last, I hand over $14.95, look at the photos and go into shock. I think I saw myself killing several people on 'Criminal Minds' last year.

The photos are rejected, too much sweating, well if I was getting on a plane I would be. I do need my glasses on because I wear them all the time and Dill should have taken enough photos to stop flashing. Also I was wearing very comfortable earrings so comfy I forgot I was wearing them and didn't take them off, Dill should have told me to as they blended into my earlobes and made me look like an upside down Spock.

Every cloud has a silver lining, I get another shot at a decent passport photo. Matt makeup should take care of the shine, glasses should make me look human not killing machine and no earrings. Fine print on passport form says cheaper for seniors, W00t.

The holidays might be cheap but...

They don't call the Pacific Ocean the ring of fire for nothing but next time you're looking at all those cheap packages to Bali, keep this map in the front of your mind.
Volcanoes, Indonesia has every kind and they all erupt sooner or later.

Involuntary self-harm

This is where you don't use a razor blade to slice up an arm or stick large pins into limbs.
It's involuntary doing stupid things like falling over because the mind is too full of other people's demands.
It's getting a diabetes result and wanting to kill for a MacDonalds hamburger that you haven't eaten in years.
It's hearing the word 'diet' and 'for life' and then buying up every bucket of ice-cream that is suddenly reduced to half price.
It's avoiding the chocolate aisle only to find it's moved and you're surrounded by everything that is delicious and like a crack addict, you fill the trolley.

It's avoiding Baker's Delight only to have apple cake delivered to your mouth for afternoon tea at the nursing home.
It's being woken by the cat and not going back to sleep so you wander round for the papers and the guy in front of you is getting coffee and you automatically order a cappuccino, no sugar but the fresh yo-yo's sing a siren's song and you're sitting at a table under a gum tree and not missing one crumb.

I'm beginning to think I ran over my foot to avoid exercise.

And more on the way. AGL stole $18 out of my account in the dead of night after already taking out the direct debits for the correct amount on the correct day. When I deal with them tomorrow, there will be self harm, there will be cake, there will be chocolate and there will be blood on the phone.

To me, the mere mention of diet causes self harm. My brain shuts down and sulks. It sulked for weeks when I decided to go vegetarian. Do you know it takes a month for the innards to be re-jigged for vegetables without meat? It takes years for the brain to be re-jigged for no chocolate, believe me.

So I'm sitting here with an ice coffee, arm hurting as the Tetanus shot battles it out with the macrophages, toe's still wrapped like a half hearted Egyptian mummy, knees still hurting from 3 weeks ago and not wishing I had a body like Elle since that seems like too much hard work and hunger but I have great wisdom instead.

Two gin and tonics make me fall over twice as much. How much more do you need to know of life?

Obesity articles - File under bullshit

The heading hasn't anything to do with this post, it's just that I was reading another "expert" on fatty bombahs and began to want ice-cream, chocolate sauce and marshmallows on top. I wish they'd all piss off to 'Thinland' and waste away in silence.

Before Christmas I picked up a copy of The Da Vinci Code in the oppie for a dollar. I enjoyed it the first time round but it's a book that can only be read once. A good mystery book is one where you can't remember who did it two hours after you've finished which makes it great to read a year later. Agatha Christie's books are brilliant for this. The film of the book annoyed me as well, not enough looking at the buildings where the mysteries were set. So that went in the bag to be returned to the oppie.

Christmas Day, my sister gives me a Dan Brown book. The illustrated version of his latest, The Lost Symbol. It totally lost me as a story and it had a crap ending. The photos illustrating the test were really gorgeous though. I've been told that sight seeing in Washington now is nearly impossible with security alerts closing off the best of the buildings and photographs have to be taken a long way away. So I'm keeping this book for the beautiful architecture that's given way to boring nothing type buildings. Mind you it was so heavy (lovely paper) that I had to read it on the bed because I couldn't hold it up.

If they'd done this with Da Vinci I'd be first in line to buy it. I did buy one of his others at Dirt Cheap Books, $5, probably all it's worth as a story. I also picked up a biography of Hilary Clinton and Margaret Whitlam, $1 each. Series 2 of the ABC's Dynasties, $1 and then we were back at the $5 lines, a murder, fantasy fiction, a social history of WhiteChapel at the time of the Ripper murders. This was after the book sale at Southland where I grabbed the third book in the Eragon series, a biography of Denys Finch-Hatton, another fantasy fiction and a pyschological thriller that I think I'll read during the day.

The floor is awash with books, the study has a shelf of un-reads, the dining table holds all of my jewellery books (huge), fashion books (huge) are in the bedroom under the chair and I just won't think of the four on their way from the Book Depository. I blame my childhood for all of this. I had only four books, a story about Jesus, the Queen's visit to Australia, the Snowdrop story book (green cover) and a very political incorrect book of an aboriginal family, Picanniny Walkabout. In primary school our library was two shelves in each class room which lasted me about three weeks. My first paypacket went on a pair of dollybird shoes to replace stilletos and a book. The second paypacket went towards a pearl and gold ring. Ooer, memory comes to me. My first piece of jewellery was from Woolworths, bought with my pocket money, a huge emerald ring set in 24 karat brass and sent my finger green every time I put it on.

So my love affair with books, books and more books began in the book poverty of my childhood and I learnt not to take gold at face value. I think I'll go and rest the toe and rifle through the treasures. Christmas present to me, you ask? Two huge books on the jewells of the Romanov Royal Family. I tell you there was a reason they wore whalebone corsets, they would have toppled over with the weight of the gold and diamonds otherwise. One nasty snippet was the fact that one of my favourite tiaras was snaffled by Imelda Marcos, pearls before swine. She probably hung her shoes on it.

Yea, I got an A+++

No, my glucose level is still 8.6.

No, my weight hasn't moved a gram in four weeks.

This is for my bandaging skilz.

Big toe on the left foot. Difficult job.

I was viciously attacked by a rogue wheeli bin that surgically removed my toenail except for the tiny shred of skin in a corner.

Yes, I thought to myself, that hurt.

Looks down to see a nice pooling of blood at the scene of the crime.

Now this is where having an untidy house comes in handy, I know where everything is because I haven't put it away yet.

So next to my chair is a sterile dressing in case the BrickOutHouse needed it.

On my head is a towell because I'd just washed my hair so that goes on the floor.

Get tape from bathroom, sterile wipes, check pulse, still alive.

Wrap it all neatly and securely after removing nail. Ring doctor, ring BrickOutHouse who yells a lot and then recline gracefully on bed until appointment for tetanus shot.

But doctor and dressing nurse very impressed with sterility of wound. Didn't give me a jelly bean though.

Pertinent to the last post.

Last night or early this morning

I can't remember which but I do remember the dream.



How could I forget a dream that featured George Clooney.



The dream also had me in a ritzy beauty salon having my hair cut.



MY HAIR CUT!



Are you kidding dreamworld?



But I did get it cut.



It showed up the white undergrowth of my naturally enhanced normal colour.



It also made me look like my mother and my grandmother.



So, I'm at the counter to pay for the shearing which I'm hating more and more and tossing my head like a horse with flies which is actually making it look a lot better in the giant mirrors.



No salon should have giant mirrors.



There is George Clooney in front of me, dashingly groomed.



I'm trying to find my purse in the bottomless pit of a bag I haul around day after day when everything hits bedrock by the end of the week.



Dear George, offers to pay for my hair cut.



Damn, George, thanks for nothing. His credit card is refused and I find mine and pay for his hair.



The comments are now open for dream interpretations and close your filthy minds while you're commenting

The secret life of pearls.

I've been enjoying a book called "Jewells, a secret history" by Victoria Finlay. I thought it might be a bit dry but it's full of wonderful snippets of history and information that is new to me.



Julius Ceasar and his invasion of Britain to gain control of the mineral resources and boatloads of flaxen haired slave girls was just a front. He had his eye on the country's pearls. He'd already decreed that only aristrocrats could wear pearls and only Caesar could wear a purple toga to match.



So, pearls in Britain? River pearls, natural fresh water pearls from mussels. Rose pink from Scotland, black pearls from Ennerdale in Cumbria and white pearls from Ireland. They were harvested and exported all over Europe. (The only pearl discovered in Fleetwood is Our Brian).



Unfortunately river pearling was forbidden in 1998 due to men's greed and disregard of the delicate balance of the ecological systems and disruption of the wild mating habits of the mussels

Pearl mussels breed every summer in an orgy of shared sperm and group sex in which the male mussels spray semen over the females as they all stand in the water. Thanks to pollution and overfishing by amateurs there aren't enough mussels for a good swingers party and breeding doesn't take place.

Each Scottish river produced a slightly different pearl colour, the old pearl fishers also known as "Travellers" put it down to the amount of peat in the water.

Rivers that breed mussels also breed salmon and they have a symbiotic relationship. After the breeding orgy when one female mussel can produce about two hundred thousand spat (young'uns) they hitch a ride on a passing salmon, staying on the fish all winter then drop off in the spring. This means they settle in a different part of the river from where they started, Nature's way of stirring up the gene pool.

Now take notes, there'll be an exam.

We've all been told how pearls are formed. A wandering grain of sand slips into the mussel or oyster shell, irritates the hell out of it so it secretes nacre to cover and neutralize the nuisance.

Wrong!!!!

It's usually a small parasite wanting a snack and manages to slip between two deformed shells.

French natural scientist, Raphael Dubois asked if we would love a pearl as much if we knew it was the brilliant sarcophagus of a worm.

The pearl fishers of British and Scottish rivers looked for the 'uglies' hiding under rocks and these were the keepers of the treasure. After the legendary Abernathy Pearl was discovered in the 1960s, the hordes invaded and like all hordes took every shell except the 'uglies' so greed destroyed the river mussels.

From our wormy 'uglies' of the river to the giants of the oceans. Pearl farming waits for no worm or sand grit, the shells are opened slightly, the nuclei for the nacre is inserted.......into the 'nads'.

That certainly gets the soothing nacre moving fast. In the words of Victoria Finlay, "Few outside the trade are aware that almost every pearl on sale today was born of the planned sexual violation of a small creature and considerable suffering hangs on those necklace strings".

Oh gosh darn, hang a guilt trip on a pearl lover. Add to the list, no sexually violated pearls, no blood diamonds, no Burmese rubies controlled by megalomaniacal Generals, no Columbian emeralds funded by drug lords and no 'synthetic as real' gems from thieving eBay dealers.

That dress!

I'm doing the 'Bambi thing'

If you can't say anything nice

Don't say anything at all.
Except I think I like the bridesmaids.

The Christmas tree is de-trimmed and packed

Another of life's mysteries, all the ornaments came out of the pine chest in X amount of boxes but will only go back in Y amount of boxes. Now to try and put Y amount of boxes back in the same pine chest that only fitted X amount.

The house is in chaos. The BrickOutHouse will be here for a while so I'm re-arranging the room. It's like a giant jigsaw puzzle. I take the bookcase from one side after removing all the materials and put it on the other wall near the door. This will enable me to pack his clothes on the shelves instead of 4 different baskets. His good and chattels are packed and stored in the study, so we/I move them to where the bookcase was. His TV is standing on my old treadle machine and that's not moving anywhere. Funny how it doesn't look big where it is but move it to any other part of the house and it looks like the Titanic. His computer is sitting on two plastic boxes of lace so I talked him into buying a small computer station.

The joy of OfficeWorks, I could wander there all day but not with Mr. Impatient who has changed his mind again. We're in front of the one picked out of the catalogue, it has a pull out shelf for the keyboard with a drawer underneath that, shelf for the CPU and it has wheels. He doesn't see the point in wheels. The next one has wheels, no drawer, shelf for the CPU but it's a horrible orange wood, never, not even for $10 cheaper. Never fear Goldilocks found exactly the right one, shelf for CPU, shelf for keyboard, wheels, shelf above for speakers and it's in black.
He was half way to the checkout before I'd finished asking if that would do. I didn't even get a chance to play with the netbooks or check out the office doodads on special.

He has his last appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, very early so I'll be in that room as soon as he's turned the corner. He can't see the point in moving so many boxes around. Doh, he wasn't the one who had to buy ribbons the other day because the ribbon boxes couldn't be reached without a rope in the ceiling. The way I have it planned the boxes I really need will be in the study, his will be next to his bed and if he winds up that cuckoo clock I'll deck him and the boxes that I won't need for a long time will be at home blocking off the passage to the kitchen.

I just need to get to the wardrobe in the study to put the Christmas tree away. I can't believe how much stuff I moved to get it out in the first place. Still if I feel this is hard, I only have to look up the date in last year's diary when we were selling mother's house. Now that was a nightmare.

Heritage, it's all in the genes

Well, I'm not one to boast but you can take your Elles, your Noamis, your Megans and your Hawkins, I have the best of them all.

The youngest granddaughter at sixteen. A mixture of wonder and horror, she has a learner's permit, that's the horror part. She wants to study drama, her first option but she has options all the way down to working at Woolworths if everything else fails. Of course, she intends to work her way to the top of Woolworths. I took her shopping, what a dream. She turned down the 50% off at the $200 shop in favour of the Salvo's across the road where she stunned in a black cleavage busting, 3 tiered beaded chiffon. A bargain at $12 with another little check number that was so tight, I insisted she sit down and breath in it before I'd buy it. A visit to the great grandmother at the home topped off with a visit to her facebook page and her 1000 photographs.

The eldest dressed for the school formal. The dress was a little more pinkish than this blue but she filled it very well. She also did a kind thing, asked a boy to take her that the other girls laughed at, of course it might have helped that he was no danger to her current boyfriend but a nice gesture anyway.

My two best gems, beyond price.