life's free treats

Gold comes in many guises.

2012-01-23T22:18:00.000+11:00

I feel I have found golden treasure, and had not realised I had already found it, in a garden of my childhood.

It is the humble little Cape Gooseberry, as we called it in our youth. The little green lanterns would become brown and transparent, and we could see the beautiful golden berries within, ready to be eaten.

Here are some photos, taken/stolen from the internet Image files. I sincerely hope the people who own the photos are not offended at my usage of their images.

The Cape Gooseberries of childhood in New Zealand, are now 'Incaberries' living here in Australia. No one seems to have heard of them until now. How curious.

I discovered the 'Incaberries', in a beautiful beetroot, carrot, pinenut, & coriander salad. I was amazed at the delicious flavour these mystery berries imparted. A wonderful sweet and sour flavour, so intriguing to the taste buds. They are touted as being a 'new' wonderfood, and beneficial for all sorts of healthy reasons.

So, of course, I Googled them and discovered that they were in fact, the berries we had loved as children.

I wonder Ali, if you read this, you will remember them? Or perhaps even still have a plant or two. As you are now living in the region where I grew up, I could not help but think you might know of these wonderful little berries.

I was intrigued to read they are a South American fruit, mostly grown at high altitudes. Of course, until I had the salad, I had never known they could be dried! We, as children gobbled them up as soon as they were ripe.

I reminded my beloved Brother of them, and he instantly remembered them with joy at the memory.
Now I am going to be wanting to source them, to use for my own salads.

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

More Gold was the sudden onset of gobbling Doule Chocolate Caramel Tim Tams. I have no idea what came over me, but before I knew it, I had eaten five in a row! Normally, I am not much of a chocolate eater, and can take it or leave it.
Gom was the chocolate lover.
Ah well, I guess I can now wear the Tim Tams as extra padding for the Winter.

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

In other, much less golden matters, I have been having some 'rounds' with the local Council's garbage collection company. Two weeks ago, I booked a collection.
The week came and went, the garbage remained.

I rang to inquire what the problem was.
"Not a problem," said the SYT (Sweet Young Thing) "You are on a Wait list, and it will be collected in the next few days."

The days ticked past. Garbage remained.
Another call. Another assurance by another SYT that I was "Still on the waitlist."
Come the collection day, no disposal truck. No collection.

WTH??

Many withdrawals had been made from our pile, but on the other hand quite a lot of deposits had been generously donated by other, ~~swinish~~ lazy folks.

A fair number of the scavengers had strewn rubbish over our lawn, and the street. I never object to anyone taking anything they can use. But please! Leave things tidy!
I spoke to a very pleasant man, who was collecting metal, who neatly repacked things after examination. I took him a further metal object to add to his collection. I do hope he uses some of the money he makes to buy himself some teeth for his head.

Mrs Nice Neighbour had booked a collection - after I had booked mine, as it happened. Imagine my horror last Friday, which is not the normal collection day, when Mrs N N's garbage was collected, and the truck drove straight past our, by now disgusting, pile of 'stuff'.

I could not believe the truck drove straight past our lot. I had a laugh with Mrs N N about it, and we decided I am wearing a psychic "Kick Me" sign on my back, and we are both wearing psychic "Sh!t on Me" signs on our heads, since she had waited almost 2 weeks too.

The rest of the saga is too depressing for words. I have phoned the Council, who got a Garbage Comapny SYT to phone me today, with further assurance "Not a Problem"

(What is with this useless bloody phrase that the young keep trotting out, mindlessly.) "Of course there is a problem!" I was practically bellowing, and since I was visiting a friend at the time, I frightened their various birds in the avairy, to say nothing of their cat, dozing on a seat. Their puppy had long since departed, I suppose fearing something might be deemed his fault.

We live on a corner block. Our actual road address has a 4 foot ditch on the side of the road. (In all the twelve years we have lived here, we have been assured by Council it will be paved and guttered, "Next year" Yes, next year, when the pigs fly over, I think to myself.) Of course, our entry and 'frontage' are on the other street. SYT seized upon this as being the reason the garbage had not been collected. By then I was almost screaming.
"Surely the collctors can see it is not practical to place the garbage in the 4 foot ditch! Could they not use their brains to see the garbage as they drove past, and practically over it!!!"

We have had many collections in the past, without incident or problem. I am assured it will all be gone next Thursday. ???
In the meantime it will probably grow, as pickings are now very slim. None of the 'donations' seem to have been worth taking.
And our lawn is dying, but I suppose, since it is mostly Bindii, that wont matter a great deal. GRRRR!

So, you may see, why I am looking for the Gold. Constantly.

An old favourite, Bread Truckin' down the Highway.

The Peaches of our Youth..

2012-01-09T08:33:00.000+11:00

I stole the title for this post from an email my Beloved Brother sent me. We usually title our emails to each other, and some are hilarious, while others tell of darker matters.

In his email, BB was remarking that when we were young, the peaches, nectarines and plums all tasted magical, and their scent was so delicious, you were tempted to sink your teeth into the wonderful fruit.
We were lucky as we had a wonderful huge nectarine tree, and peach trees with both white and golden flesh.

And Tamarillo trees, and a wonderful huge passionfruit vine on an A frame trellis our Grandfather built. It was wonderful to sit under the vine, and indulge in the wonderful fruit in secret! Not that we were not allowed to eat the fruit, it was just the magic of hiding away, that was so appealing.

Now the fruit we buy is all uniform in size, lacks much in the way of aroma and the taste seems to have all but disappeared.

We try to buy Local, from a fruit shop that stocks the slightly spotted, or blemished, and undersized fruit and vegetables, from local growers who can't send the produce to the Market. I can't really say the produce tastes better, though some potatoes and beans we purchased at a local farm gate were wonderful. I suspect they cost us more than a shop price, but the taste was worth the money.

Living in the past, some would say. Happy memories though, and the taste of the wonderful fruit seems to remain even after all these years.

I recieved a card, and some photos from friends in Chrischurch New Zealand. The photos were of the friends' youngest son's wedding, and they were beautiful. I phoned them to say Thankyou for the card and the wonderful photos. These friends had been friends with Gom and I for a long time, and we had been with them when that youngest son was born.

'A' kept urging me to 'Come and stay! We will look after you, and you must think about living your life now'. I know the intentions of people are kind, and remarks such as this, are motivated by genuine caring. However after the phone call, I slipped into a deep depression, and realised I could never go back to Chch without Gom. It was his hometown, and I could not bear to see it alone, or indeed, in it's altered state.

I have many friends there who seem to have become accustomed to the continuing shakes and rolls. All have suffered damage to their homes, but they are still 'habitable'. All are promised repairs some time in the future. It must surely be unnerving to live in such uncertainty.

Such is the nature of my grief, I have patches where I think I am making progress, then find myself crying uncontrollably, and feeling so wretched. I dont know how other people make it through. I know this lovely lady, http://idlepersiflage.blogspot.com/ will understand how I am feeling, as she seems to have very similar feelings and experiences. (It is so long since I have blogged, I have forgotten how to link a site to a name only!)

I can hardly believe this year is underway.

I am desperately trying to regain some normalcy~ whatever that is, or will be, now.
I read other blogs, where the 'widow' (Odious word!) seems to be living on and enjoying life again. I suppose everyone is very different. I am trying various ways of coping with it all.

Joan Baez

Seasons

2011-12-15T20:55:00.000+11:00

This is supposedly the Season of Good Cheer.
Not much that I have seen, would seem to bear this out.

I have not been out and about in the shops very much, but the grim faces and crabby people would suggest it is anything but the Season of Cheer.

I am still struggling with darkness, and have not posted because of this.
My dratted knee seems to be slow to heal, and the pain factor is something else again. I was convinced it had become infected again, and spent the best part of a day at the Hospital waiting for blood test results, and xrays, and an Orthopeadic Surgeon to give a verdict on the red, burning, swollen and bruised looking knee. When he finally came to inspect the knee, he decided it is not infected, but suspects there has been bleeding into the tissue, which has caused all the problems. Result of Warfarin.

I refuse to take it any more, and will take my chances on other 'dire' consequences. Haha. Have yet to tell my GP of my decision, but if the knee improves and heals perhaps I will reconsider..

I suspect this is what a lot of peole should be doing!
Most of all, me! {Someone sent me this pic in an email, so I hope the photographer does not mind me using it here.}

A day at the Hospital is not for the fainthearted, and it is spent in an entirely different rhythm to life on the 'outside'.

I wisely took a book to read, having had experience with the ED when Gom had frequent visits. I never got the chance to read though, as I was seated outside the small 'office area' where an extremely motormouthed woman and her small child were waiting, along with other hapless victims. She was covered in tattoos, from head to toe, and piercings, which she kept saying were not an indication of drug taking, which she kept assuring anyone who passed, she did not, would not, and will not ever take. I assume the weird hair and the caked makeup were not indicators either. She never shut up for the whole time- 2 1/2 hours!!- and we heard all about the rotten men in her life, the 4 children she now has, the fact that she is having another, and so on and so forth. All told in the most appalling grammar, and a grating loud voice. In the end I wanted to scream or leave, but could find no escape if I wanted a verdict on the dratted knee.

I did see several people I know, who came to say hello, and wish me well. Most of them staff who I have met either socially, or through my SIL, who works at the Hospital. He kept coming to check on me, and my son had delivered me, held my hand while I cried as the Dr took the blood, and returned later to collect me.

I do question the wisdom of having had the surgery so soon after Gom's passing. I seem to become very emotional, and can cry at the drop of a hat- to my horror. I am a coward, and my veins wont 'give' so having blood taken is a real ordeal.
Feeling unwell is a pain in the knee!

I just love this little pic, from the same email as Smile.

I wish everyone a pleasant and happy Season.
No music tonight, too tired.

Plans

2011-11-30T18:11:00.000+11:00

I made

Plans before going off to Hospital, to have my new knee fitted.

As is always the way with Plans, life takes over, and the Plans never seem to work out the way we imagined they would.

I bought this new little bed for Honey, thinking she could sleep in it, until I was strong enough to lift her on & off my bed.

While I was away, she did, in fact use it, (though not while she was staying at my Granddog's house- he claimed it then, and she chose my daughter's bed! and stayed there, whether my son in law approved or not!) and was very cosy during the stormy cold weather and even the warmer weather breaks.

Once I was home, Honey decided she wanted to be on the bed again, so we had a few discussions about the fact that I could not be leaping out of bed to ferry her to food, water, and comfort stops.
It all worked out OK in the end and I soon devised methods of doing her bidding! haha.

My son bought me some Pre-Op flowers before the Hospital visit, which I thought was a very nice touch.
I was also spoilt with in-Hosp flowers, but I neglected to take any pics.

The Hospital stay became another lost Plan.

I developed some problems which no one foresaw, so I had to have blood transfusions, and oxygen, and Ventolin, and antibiotics, and an extra 3 days stay in the Hospital.

Gave me time to observe some really comical antics and examine the state of other patients reactions to various events.

I confess the first 3 days are very hazy, and at one stage I thought I had been transferred to another Hospital! Which caused much hilarity to the Doctors. I suspect it was the extremely strong painkillers I had to take, and am still taking.

Another hitch was an infection in the site, for which I am still on medication, and it still causes me ugly degrees of pain. I have composed a lot of posts, in my head, since my return, but the pain of sitting in a chair at the computer just plain beat me to the floor!

I must say, the actual function of the knee is doing really well, and so I persevere with the pain barrier. Plus, each day seems a little better, if only in patches.

I was in a ward with 3 other ladies, one with a broken spine, from a hideous accident where she fell from a small terrace, and her friend also fell, and landed on top of her! She was in a great deal of pain, and there seemed to be little that could be done for her. At least she was not paralyzed, but she had very limited movement, and a horrible brace contraption, which reduced her to tears every time they fitted it on her.

Another lady had dementia, and had fallen and broken her hip. She was everyone's darling, such a sweet little person, and she woke me one night, calling my name, and said "Meg I love you." I was astonished, but replied I loved her too, and she went back off to sleep.

The other lady had had a knee replacement the same as mine, but she did not understand why she couldn't have blood tansfusions and oxygen like me. She was from a foreign country, and did not speak very good English, and she was very resentful if I got to have first shower. She became convinced I was getting special treatment, and though the nurses assured her it was not so, she remained somewhat sour in her attitude to me. She seemed to be like me, in that she had a horrific level of pain, and to be fair to her, she was 84! Why would you bother, at that age? I kept asking myself. I have promised myself if the other knee breaks down I will not have it replaced.

Foreign lady decided she did not want to go home, on the day I was being discharged, and she refused a shower, and sulked away. The Physio girls came to talk to her, and the nurses told her she was ready to go home. Doctor had been around, and told her she could go home. Her desperate daughter was pleading with her to let her take her home. Finally I could see no progress, so I made myself a busybody, and told her I really admired her for her courage and her progress. Whe she said she couldnt lift her leg the same as me, I assured her I was a lot younger, and she was doing very well. With that she broke into a smile and declared she would go home after all! Much to the relief of everyone.

They do warn it is very painful, but they can never indicate how hideous the pain will actually be. I would rather give birth to 4 babies than live through that again.

One of the things that made me laugh was the procession of visitors the foreign lady had. Her lovely daughter and son came to visit often, but it was other visitors who gave me much cause to laugh. One short stout aging couple came huffing and puffing in one afternoon. The woman was smiling defiantly, and had very flushed cheeks. Her hostile husband more or less came in swinging with rage and indignation over something, and they proceeded to have a blazing row, all in their own toungue, which was a pity really as I would have liked to know what it was all about. Body language and pitch of voice can give away many secrets. I was not surprised that the male shouted something nasty sounding and stormed off out of the ward, ignoring the patient, who had sat in bed, very quietly. His rotund little wife pinned a smile on her red face, muttered what I assume was goodbye to her friend and she departed too.

I could not help but wonder why people would come to visit a sick person, put on a hideous display like that and rage off?

I had asked my friends and family not to visit, as I feel there is little to talk about, and seeing as I was drugged to the eyeballs, it seemed I fell asleep at the drop of a walking frame.

My family ingnored my pleas, and did visit- my son every day, bless him, though I told him he didn't need to.

I had made a foolish mistake by asking for Vegetarian food, as I had been told that was the best food/diet. Somehow the Vegetarian got changed to 'veglac' whatever that is, but I can tell you, it was horrible, and they even managed to stuff up lentils, which I rather like. There was also something called a Nut Loaf on the menu, and when I finally decided to give it a try, I was bitterly disappointed to find it tasted foul, and looked like a roll of dog food. I loathe milk so in the end I had very little variance in the daily diet, and attempts to get it changed proved fruitless. So, should I ever be in Hospital again, I will just ask for Full diet.I hasten to add, while Hospital food is never wonderful, the general meals I saw others having, seemed to be perfectly nice to me!

My lovely daughter probably saved my life, by making me the most delicious omelet I have ever tasted, and then my son brought me some lovely fried rice.

We are having very humid weather, and they skies are sullen and grumpy looking. When it rains, far from cooling things down, it increases the humidity.

I have had some bad days, but feel as I heal, my mood is lightening. I did not wish to post, while down in the dumps.

I am getting out my quilty books and thinking about sewing, once I can sit for longer periods of time. I can walk without my walking stick about the house, but still use it for outdoors.

Jean Michel Jarre, Oxygene 2

'New' Histories.

2011-11-01T20:31:00.000+11:00

I have a theory that we all re-write our history constantly. Editing, changing small details. Usually we strive to have the history memory show ourselves in a favourable light.

I am often amazed to hear a friend's version of an event we both witnessed.
Relatives seem to have very different memories of events, even though everyone was present for the same occasion.

"That is odd" I think, "I dont seem to remember it being quite like your version"

I suspect, that everyone, who does something they later query the wisdom of, or doubt, begins to justify their actions, and rationalise the behaviour. It would seem to be human nature.

Over time, I have finally learnt, not to ~~insist~~ contradict, or present my own version.
At the end of the day, weeks, months, or years, it does not matter a jot, who has the more accurate recollection.

I tell myself it will all be irrelavent in a hundred years. I suppose the wonderful stories of our ancestors' supposed humourous doings, are mostly made up, or retold so often, they have no bearing on the original event.
I guess photographs are a better record of the past, but I have found even they can lie, or give a very false impression.

I have a lot of letters I wrote to my mother, and she kept them to re-read, and I am quite surprised to read of things I have forgotten. I have some of her letters to me, and two precious letters my Grandmother wrote to both of us.

It seems sad to think that letter writing is a dying art, and very soon, even emails will possibly be 'old hat'.

***
I often think of the odd expressions that were part of my childhood.

There were many, such as 'As useless as a one legged man in an ar$e kicking competition.'

Or 'As useless as a one armed paper hanger.'

I once told my daughter, when she was a rebellious teenager, that 'Perhaps it is time for you to hump your bluey!'
She was utterly dumbfounded, and later, when the heat had cooled from the disagreement, asked me what it meant.
I suppose I must have learnt it from my Australian grandfather, as it means to take your 'bluey', which was a man's bedroll as he made his way around the country, searching for work. Therefore to 'hump the bluey' referred to packing up the bedroll, and other meagre possesions, and slinging them over his shoulder, or hanging it upon his back, and moving on.

Those poor old chaps would have loved to have a modern Backpack!

This cloud does not appear to have a silver lining, but does, however, appear to have a golden silhouette.
***
Now, I have just discovered a pie I was cooking has overflowed and the contents are burnt onto the bottom of the oven!
Drat!

Augie March, There is No Such Place.

Weekends

2011-10-25T08:24:00.000+11:00

When Gom & I were much younger, and both still ~~really~~ "Alive", we sometimes took a weekend break in the Center of Sydney City.

An odd choice you may think. We lived in a quiet dormitory suburb, about an hour's travel from Sydney City, so the hustle and bustle of Sydney city was quite a novelty- just for one weekend!

It reminded us of other, younger, trips to Sydney, taken from Christchurch, before we resided in Australia.

On most of those trips, we would stay at some Motel, close to Kings Cross, or, as it is locally known, 'the Cross'.

My first visit was quite shattering, in the sadness I saw, of miserable lives, drug addicted young girls, 'on the game' begging for custom. The sad, and the lonely, begging for 'love' or some comfort, be it drugs or sex.

It seemed a whole world away from the life I knew, and lived. It was certainly very colourful, and there was also, much to laugh about and much to admire, in the form of buildings, locals, and bars. It is true, the Cross never sleeps.

Our accommodations were usually comfortable, and most adequate for our needs.
On one trip, we had prepaid for accommodation, on the recommendation of friends. Imagine our horror when we could find no one to admit us and acknowledge our booking. A fellow guest let us into the building and ascertained which room we had been allocated. The stained bedcovers were the first 'clue'. The second was the mobile cupboard when we opened the door. No, it was not a new and fancy peice of furniture- it was in fact a heaving haven for scurrying cockroaches.

We dumped our bags, took our key and set off to find new, and more sanitary and pleasing accommodation!
We found a very nice deal close by, so checked in there, then returned to the Cockroach Palace, retrieved our luggage and left the key on the desk. Thankfully, our money for the booking was refunded to us, on our return to New Zealand.

No wonder the Customs officers seemed to be laughing at us when they read our 'intended staying address'! Perhaps Cockroach Palace was notorious.

For one of our weekend breaks, after we became residents, we decided to try an inner city high rise Motel. Our son and his lovley partner were living close by, and they were very excited to meet us and take us to their favourite Chinese Restaraunt for a meal on the Satruday night.

We arrived on Friday night, and were happy to see our rooms were nice enough. We went off to explore the city sights and then wandered close to the Motel to find a bar, for a drink or meal before we retired for the night.

I was disgusted with our choice of Club. It was a ~insert name of most famous Church beginning with C~ Club, situated down some stairs in a basement location. It seemed to have men only customers, and one particularly objectionable individual made us feel most uncomfortable as he rudely began effing and blinding as hard, and as loudly, as could. I glared at him, which only seemed to trigger more vile language, and I was amazed to find the other patrons and the staff all turned a blind eye and deaf ear, to this boorish pig's behaviour. I am positive he was not a Tourettes sufferer. I know this will offend some, but I decided he was a 'retired Priest' who detested women, and most of mankind.
Perhaps the fact that the Bartender addressed the disgusting old swine as "Father" was a further clue!

We did not linger, and left to spend our night sleeping.

Hahaha! Fat hope. We discovered that the High Rise Motel became a megaphone for every scream, crash, fight, swearing attack, fire engine siren, ambulance siren, revving of engines, and screeching of brakes. Then, just as we were thinking it was becoming quieter in the early morning hours, the trash trucks began their rounds, emptying what sounded like a thousand broken bottles, into the huge maws of their vehicles.. The cacophany of the city was echoed up the walls of the canyon, which is what it all became in the night.

When our Son and his lady arrived to collect us next day, we were having an afternoon nap, trying to regain lost sleep!
The Chinese Restaraunt had delicious food- every other soul in Sydney agreed, and we had to wait some lengthy time for a table. It was all worth it, however.

I think that is the last weekend away, that we took in Sydney City.

*****************
Updates.

Honey has had her tumours removed, and seems to be coping, apart from wanting to chew the stitches on the leg! Another trip to Vet to get it restrapped and purchase a Cone for her head. She was so miserable wearing it, I took pity on her and removed it. At this rate she will bankrupt me!!
I take her back today to have it all rebandaged.

My surgery has been moved forward and I am told I cannot be 'bumped or postponed' on this list. I attended the Hospital to see the Surgeon again, yesterday. All systems go.

Tomorrow Son & I are attending an Information session at the Hosp, where they take us through the op, visit the ward, and generally give us as much pre information as they can, so we/I will know what to expect.

Son may possibly be away while I am in Hospital. Not sure of his return date, so am hoping to be mobile and active when I ~~escape~~ get discharged. I am just like Gom, in that I detest being incapacitated and having to be in Hospital.

We are having a very hot streak of weather, and it is raining now, so humid. We were looking forward to the "Southerly Change" to cool things down. I guess, in the Northern Hemisphere it is a "Northerly Change" you will look forward to having arrive?

When we lived in Christchurch, we absolutely dreaded the "Nor Wester" which blew across the Canterbury Plains and gained ever more heat as it travelled to the Eastern coast, which is where Christchurch is situated

Janis Ian. In the Winter. (Because, it is still Winter in my heart.)

Walls

2011-10-19T22:59:00.000+11:00

Are the Crappy Bits winning?

I sometimes wonder.

Justice seems to have taken a holiday.

I am told, 'Don't worry, there is Karma'
I don' think so.

I cannot see where the Karma might be, in this devastating tragedy, in my home bay.
This is a large scale disaster. We are told the guilty are 'prepared to give one million dollars towards the cleanup'. Whilst admitting no guilt! What??
The Company that own this rust bucket of shite, are in the region of millions in proft.

I totally despair.
Morty, on the other hand, has a different perspective.
In the old thoughts of Alfred E Neuman, "What, Me worry?"

Here is SG with Granddog. I love Granddog almost as much as I love SG (or my Honey) . However, I am reluctant to see Granddog licking the face of SG, which is the next pic in this series.

Son and I watched the All Blacks victory over the Wallabies.
This is Pinky, watching the game. He was placed there, in Gom's chair, as a Good Luck Symbol.

As you may guess, Pinky has been in the family for many years. I am sure he was delighted with the final result, though he did not appear to show much emotion.

This coming weekend Pinky will have to work extra hard, to support our All Blacks, for a win for the World Cup.
Who knew I could ever bother about Sport!!

Often, when our Walls surround us, we forget to see the pain and despair of others.

I have learned of much pain and suffering of someone who was dear to our family, for a number of years. She is not now, really, a part of our family, but she remains in the hearts and minds of all of us.
We feel her pain and wish her love and healing thoughts, in her difficult days. Love to you, M.

Honey, my little dog, is scheduled for suregery on Friday. I am hoping she will come through OK. She will aslo have the cast removed from her back leg, so we are hoping all will be well with that, as well as her tumour removal.
My surgery is scheduled for 11th November, so hopefully it will not be postponed. However, if an accident or somenone younger needs surgery, I will totally understand. Such is life.

I keep thinking of The Rose, as sung by Bette Midler. A Song of Hope.
se.

Life's Sticky Bits.

2011-10-13T20:10:00.000+11:00

Life's Sticky Bits.

Sometimes, the 'glue' we have come to regard as part of our lives, becomes unstuck.

It becomes difficult to remain hinged, one might say. We (I) feel as if all the parts have become separated, and one (I) wonders how to gather it all together again.

I bought some plants, hoping to find some continuity in life, of recent times. Some, such as this sweet Pansy, have survived the onslaught of slugs and snails.

Some planter pots became weed paradise, interspersed with a large cat sitting in a pot. Was he pretending to be an innocent flower?
This pic was taken as King Morty sniffed SG's proffered hand. Just before he, Morty, attacked and scratched SG on the face! Morty is one disturbed cat, whose troubled kittenhood remains a mystery to us. We often refer to him as "Moriarty", or "Psycho".

Another sweet pansy, which has managed to survive the snails.

I have a date, to have my total knee replacement surgery. In the meantime, Honey has damaged a ligament in her left back leg, and is in a plaster cast, for approximately 8 weeks, while it heals.
I broke down when I took her to the Vet. I could not bear it if anything happened to Honey, after my year from Hell.
Honey may yet need an operation. We are hoping it will not have to come to that.

My Pre Admission Clinic visit was full of surprises. Not ~~none~~ all of them were pleasant, and some were totally odious.

It seems they have decided to create new, and highly undignified steps, to perform, and cause embarrassment. Not everyone is happy with this development. Some protest vigorously, or refuse to have them done.

I, being from the old school of 'Obey' did not relish the test, but neither did I refuse.

I later consulted the Internet to see why this new procedure was necessary. I remain unconvinced as to the value. I simply forgot to ask at the time of the procedure. I am sure my brave daughter would have questioned it all, at the time of request. She is much braver than I am.

I have composed many posts, inside my head. None of them have made it to print.

I have been trying to catch up with my favourite blogs, and have not managed to cover all of the wonderful posts I know are out there, waiting to be enjoyed.

I am indescribably sad, and horrified at what is happening in my birthplace, the Bay Of Plenty of New Zealand. It cannot be repaired soon, and the price is far more than any man-made fines, or useless jail terms.

I see Oil and all it's ugliness, as an evil we should be without, in this modern world.

Joan Baez, singing Dylan

Perspectives.

2011-09-20T21:31:00.001+10:00

This seagull's persepective, might be quite different to what we see, when we look at him/her, with only one foot.

We tend to think, "Oh how tragic!"

But, perhaps the gull's perspective, would be, "Oh, How lucky I am to still be alive, and able to manage, with only one foot!"

The bleak day notwithstanding, this gull made a good fist at fighting off other gulls, who might have competed for any scraps that could be forthcoming!

On our trip, we found some of these Sea Urchins, or Kina, as we called them in New Zealand. This is how they appear, when alive. They also appear to be very prickly, once they are 'deceased', as they wash upon the shore.

The action of the sea, sand, and the waves, gradually removes the spines from the wonderful delicate shells, that were once the home, and skeleton, for this creature.

We discovered many of these deceased creatures on one of the beaches we visited on our travels. My son decided he would like to keep some, as he loved the form and delicate structure of the now vacant homes.

They are truly a work of Nature's art, and the wonderful patterns are so lovely.

We collected these specimens, and though their former occupants were now deceased, some of them still had the remants of the former tennants, so to speak. Some still had the remnants of the spines, and so we were a little wary of collecting them.

Thence commenced the journey of getting the deceased creatures' homes, to our home!

We enclosed them in a plastic bag, but soon realised this would not be enough to prevent the all-prevailing stench, of the remains of the prior tennants of these homes.

So, on our first night accomodation after we collected the creatures, Son decided to stash them in a handy Skip, in the Hotel car park.

Next moring he retrieved the offensive package, and set off to purchase zip lock bags, in which to seal the creatures. Several layers of zip lock bags later, we set off for our next destination-all odour seemingly contained.

Thence followed a nightly routine, where son placed the package in the local accommodation's skip, or garbahe bin, and then he retrieved it each morning, and added another layer of zip lock, and restashed it in our boot.

Imagine our horror, one morning, when we heard a leaf mulcher being vigourously applied to the current Motel's yard! Son sped off to retrieve the package, before the leaf/mulch/deposits were emptied into the skip!

As you can see, we did get them home safely, and Son spent some time cleaning them, and ensuring they are now odour-free.

****

A small story, for opinions, or persepective..

A small boy was deemed by his teacher, to be "Annoying".

The teacher told the child he was so annoying, he needed to go and 'annoy the door', in his class. This was in front of the other pupils, who had apparently also declared the small student to be 'annoying'.

The small boy duly went to the door, and 'annoyed the door' in a manner he thought appropriate.

However, the teacher decided he was not so much 'annoying' the door, as 'having a conversation, with the door', so he told the small boy to "Go outside, and annoy the pole".

I found this story so sad, and so wrong on many levels.

Am I wrong in this evaluation?

Is it a matter of "perspective"?

I confess there was a certain admiration for the small boy for 'running with it'. On the other hand, what sort of message does it send to the small boy, and his peers within the classroom?

Opinions would be welcome.

Chris Isaak Two Hearts.
My first choice was 'I Wonder', but it did not play, and I could not find another version.

Kaleidoscopic time

2011-09-12T22:17:00.000+10:00

How strange to think that time can pass so slowly, yet at the same time, seem to flash past before the eye can blink.

Our trip was truncated, due to many reasons.

Sadly, I did not find myself able to relax and enjoy it all.
Much of the journey was tinged with sadness, as I recalled being in many of the locations with Gom.
We were rather impressed with much of the highway.
It has been extensively upgraded since I last travelled that way, with Gom.

We visited the "Hippy Village" of Nimbin.

It is a very interesting place, with obviously great significance to the local Aboriginal peoples.

My personal views were, perhaps, not flattering to the influence of other, later, peoples.

I felt it had a tired, sad, faded and jaded appearance, and time would not seem to have dealt kindly with much of the idyllic thoughts and plans from previous years.
It all seemed a little contrived now, to my eye. But who am I to judge, or even pass much comment.

We could only find 'Backpacker' accomodation in the area, and it was mostly of the rudimentary type.
As I said, I am too bl**dy old to be traipsing down some corridor, in my raggedy night attire, in search of a toilet, in the middle of the night. Or even a shower, in the cold light of day.

We found a 'Bates Motel' some miles out of town. It was very isolated, and we were the only guests. Strange noises, and leaking dripping taps, did nothing to comfort us, and in the night it poured torrential rain with no letup. I kept telling myself the owners dog, Molly, looked very comforting, and well cared for, and thus reassured myself Molly's owner could not be a mass murderer, or even a ghoul!
It was ridiculously cheap, and having an ensuite was a highlight, in spite of the dripping waters.

Byron Bay is ever an engaging destination, and the day we visited, it was almost sunny. We largely had wet, and somewhat cold, and miserable weather for much of our trip.
I must say, my son's driving skills leave nothing to be desired in the face of hideous wet roads, and almost monsoonal deluges.

I was delighted to see this Bag Limit for fishing at a Beach we visited. How lovely to think there were enough fish to require limits.
Of course the down side was the thought that man has been so greedy, as to require 'bag limits'. I think this beach was Flynn's Beach and close to Port Macquarie.

We did spend some strange nights in some 'interesting' accomodation. Not all to be recommended, but most to be discussed and (later), laughed about.

There were some sunny patches, and some beaches were sure to be delightful in the full heat and shine of Summer.

Hardy and enthusiastic surfers seemed to be out in most of the beaches we stopped off to visit.

This beach we loved, spent some time walking up the sand, which seemed to be almost pristine, and recenly washed. I never fail to enjoy the salt wash line of the surf, and the little kelp seeds, on the sand.

A small child had left these little footprints in the pristine sand. They somehow made me sad.

This is a carved statue of someone called Henry, who lived and loved on this beach. I have forgotten the name of the beach.

This is a Bush Turkey, which apparently Henry used to call his 'Chooks' and he fed them, when he was alive. It seemed he patrolled the beach, and kept it clean and tidy.

Upon my return home, I was greeted with a letter, advising me I had a re-call for my recent mammogram.
I was not worried, as I had had a biopsy and extensive investigation last year, for a minor condition.

When I attended the re-call Clinic, I noticed a Jigsaw on the table in the waiting room. We were six women waiting for the tests, and the news, and some were more nervous than others.
I was struck how comforting women can be to each other, when a crisis demands.

We talked and laughed among ourselves and the Jigsaw remained untouched, but I kept remembering how Gom and I had loved to do Jigsaws together, when he could still see.

I was the second to be told all was well, and so I hope the other ladies all had positive outcomes, from the tests.
When I came home, I found a Jigsaw that Gom had never attempted, and I set about doing it by myself.

I found it engaging in a sort of numbing fashion, and I did enjoy the way it gobbled up my thoughts. A good friend came to visit and placed some pieces, and, inspired, went home to get a puzzle out to work on for herself.

I did finish the puzzle and here is the proof!
I did a further simple, smaller jigsaw, but feel I might take a break, as they say.

Dire Straits Private Investigations.

Follies and Foibles

2011-08-17T22:05:00.000+10:00

I am going on a Road Trip, with my son.

We have decided to take the opportunity to visit some rellies, who live at the top of this State, New South Wales.

This is a trip that Gom and I had long planned to take, but somehow events conspired, and we did not take the journey.

Son and I are planning to be very flexible, and just take it all as it comes. We have no destination, apart from the rellies at some stage. We will see where time and tide take us.

I have always wanted to do a trip this way. Leisurely and slowly, with no rush or time limits. And no definite destination.

Gom was a man of 'plans'- though he seldom let me know of his intentions, and calculations, before the journey was begun.

We would set sail, and he would then inform me that we would be at So & So by 5pm and heaven help us if we needed a comfort stop, or were dying of hunger, it was all go go, until we reached the destination, and we could wet ourselves or suffer dehydration and starvation.

Arrival as close to his estimation as possible, was what the trip was about.

At times this was almost alright. Howcver there were times when it was breathtakingly, clenchingly, uncomfortable, in the case of the toilet breaks. Hunger would often make both the children & I grumpy to the point of misery. To say nothing of thirst, once we had used our supply of beverages.

The most horrible of these regimented trips was a time when we were booked, for the 6pm sailing, on the Inter Island Ferry, which sailed between Picton, in the South Island of New Zealand, and Wellington, on the North Island of New Zealand. This was a four hour trip, and not always pleasant, as Cook Straight can be notoriously rough.

We left Christchurch in plenty of time to make a visit to his daughter, who lived with her mother, not far from Picton. When we arrived, our daughter was not home, so off went Gom, hell bent for Picton.

The children and I were starving, as well as needing a comfort stop, but there was no stopping Gom. He was very reminiscent of Toad of Toad Hall, behind the wheel of the car.

We reached Picton around 1.30pm, and Gom became convinced he could get the car a berth on the 2pm sailing of the Ferry. I told him that was all very well, but our needs came first, and with 2 young hungry children, we needed to refuel. Gom, not to be thwarted, dropped us off in Picton township and motored off to the Ferry.

Imagine my horror, when once more, relieved and refuelled, we ran to the dock, to find it empty and no cars in sight and the Ferry about to sail.

The children panicked, cried and felt abandoned. I felt quite murderous thoughts, towards Gom.

A man appeared at the car ramp, and beckoned us to 'Come this way!' 'Has father left you behind, haha?'

I spent most of that Ferry trip in aggrieved silence.

Thankfully, we spent that night in a Hotel in Wellington, but had Gom been alone, I am sure he would have begun the long drive up to Auckland immediately, upon driving off the Ferry.

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

In other news, Beloved Brother has taken a Sky Dive.

I was rather horrified to learn he was to undertake this venture, and said to my Son that I have lost my sense of Adventure.

Son asked if BB was "adventurous", and I replied that I felt the word was "foolhardy".

Here is BB about to leap from the plane, with his second born son, giving him the thumbs up, in the plane. Second Born's turn was to be next.

Here is BB flying. I wondered "Is this the face of terror?"

He tells me it was not, but remarked that the rush did strange things to his face and beard!

I told him I had visions of cheek flaps beating off his ears, but I can see they were well protected by the helmet!

Here he is, in what he tells me is the magic part of it all, flying and soaring above the earth, with the panoramic view, and the wonderful feeling of weightless flying.

He did land safely, and says he would do it again, in spite of an initial exit, halted, due to a 'problem', and a landing to refuel before taking off again, for his actual jump!

Second Born says he will never jump again.

I wondered how the photos were taken, and BB tells me the tandem man has a camera strapped to his left wrist, hence the wonderful shots of all the action.

I do admire BB his bravery, (or foolhardiness.)

Of course, I am extremely glad he enjoyed it all, and landed safely back on land.

In other joyous news, he is to be a grandfather again, so he is looking forward to that, very much.

One of THOSE drawers.

2011-08-06T21:49:00.001+10:00

Do you have one of those drawers?

You know the ones that contain anything and everything, and seems always to be overflowing.

Gom used to despair at ours. He would always suggest I rid the drawer of really essential items, such as a tin opener which only partially works. But, it does have a great bottle top remover!

Or, the egg slicer, that Gom insisted was seldom used, which would then, produce a flurry of boiled eggs to be sliced to use in salads and such. Or, the cheese slicer, which I doubt has ever actually been used, but then... one never knows when it might be needed.

There are the collection of non stick-surface-safe-utensils. Spoons, spatulas, fish slices, forks, and tongs along with the vegetable peelers, with brushes and other pitting/gouging features. I will admit the vegie peelers don't seem to figure largely on the list of 'most used', but on the other hand, they are handy if we have visitors, who wish to peel or slice.

Being left handed, I am rather protective of my pet vegie peelers. They almost become rendered utterly useless if right handed people use them. My knife collection is sadly lacking in left handedness, due to the righties in the family using them all the time.

Then there are the seldom used Pizza slicers, the sandwich cutter, the knife sharpener, from my Grandmother's era, which still works really well, for me at least.

There are the garlic presses, some of which are almost useless. The ladles, the whisks, the spoons for various purposes.

The Parmesan grater, which is almost more trouble than it is worth.

The really blunt kitchen scissors, which are really just large, useless, 'normal' scissors and should be discarded.

One of these days I WILL clear this drawer out, and discard the useless items.

It won't be today.

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

I bought a chilli plant for my son B. He loves chilli, and this plant was named Bruce.

Bruce did remarkably well, for me, who has permanent brown thumbs. Bruce bore two lots of fruit, and they were nice and mild and provided son B with some tasty zing to his meals.

You can see, the last baby is rather deformed and late to ripen. However my brown thumbs have actully produced the Parsley in the same container, so I am pleased about that.

The violets continue to produce healthy looking leaves with much vigour, but nary a flower shall grace their parents.

The Nasturtiums valiantly try to grow, and they produce gems of dew, and even have a few buds, which will no doubt flower in due course.

Unless, of course they are ripped out, in the course of a 'garden makeover', currently being undertaken by son B, with a little help from me.

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

Small Grandson, who is growing up so quickly, it frightens me, informs us he loves classical music, and jazz is really his favourite, but he hates heavy metal rock, and loud guitar. What a sensible lad!

Ottmar Liebert, Duende del Amor.

Paralysis

2011-08-01T00:35:00.000+10:00

It seems I am paralysed, which may seem like an insult, to people with physical disabilities.

My paralysis is, I think, in my mind.

I seem to have days where I can think, and can contemplate, a life to be lived.

But then come the dark days, when rising from the coccoon of my bed seems terrifying, and I cannot see the point in even trying to pretend I am functioning.

I am not sure whether I should blog about this. It would seem, somehow to be, almost obscene. Other people seem to gather their wits, and carry on with their lives.

I could offer no judgement or comment on other's grief path. I suspect we all have to follow our own path in the healing, of a loss by death.

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

We have had a birth in the family, which is to be celebrated, with much Joy.

Mum, Dad, and proud Big Brother. We welcome, little Hayden to our wider family.

A daytrip to a soothing beach was pleasant diversion today.

We sat, and listened to the soft swash of the waves, on the small serene bay. We watched young children delight in the sheer joy of being alive, with parents who doted upon them,

The feel of the sand, and the sun, and parents adoration, seemed so full of joy and happy memories in the making.

Ah to be wealthy, and able to afford Real Estate, in that small but beautiful community.

Dreams are free.

New life is always a joy, and this little boy will bring enormous love, I am sure.

Don McLean: And I Love You So.

Tides

2011-07-21T21:12:00.000+10:00

Amidst the tides and swirls of grief, I try to take time to see the rainbows.

This one came across the Valley, where we live on the hill.

It really was spectacularly bright and glowing. I wondered about the preponderance of rainbows we have had lately, across the Valley.

We saw a bight one the day after Gom passed away, after the thunderstorms, which had raged for the whole weekend while he was dying. I told my children, perhaps it was Gom, trying to tell us not to be sad.

We have had one of the wettest Julys ever, with the wettest day in 23 years. We have also had the coldest July day, for 8 years.

My heart has been frozen for many of these days, and some days it is an effort to just get out of bed.

I have discovered grief has Tides. Some are Seventh Wave tides, and some are just too overwhelming to name. They sweep over me when I least expect them, and there is no predicting how each day will be, or where the tide level will take me.

My Nice Neighbour, who has also lost her husband has taken me to the beach, on a glorious sunny day. We walked up part of the Skillion which is above the sea, at the end of the beach.
I saw a fisherman catch a fish, on the rocks far below, and I could tell, it was too small to keep. He looked up as if the say. "I will not keep this one." and he released it back into the water. I felt strangely comforted at the sight.

Mrs N N and I went out for lunch today together, and we consoled each other and laughed together about some of things we feel and notice.

There are bizarre things that strike the mind, when least expected.

The Undertakers, who came to take Gom, wore the most ridiculous striped trousers, with odd waistcoats.

We decided they looked like the Circus Band Members, and half expected them to bring out their trombones!

We asked each other why they would dress in such strange clothes. We finally decided it was to give family something to laugh about, at a time when everything was too ghastly to be fully realised, and stunned numbness was the predominant feeling.

My health checks have been completed, and it seems my heart is fine... well, physically, so I am told, and I have the pictures to prove it.

There are ridiculous things happen, such as, after cancelling Gom's credit card, and having to watch it being cut up ~ which was very confronting, somehow~ I get two letters in the mail 2 weeks later, with new Credit Cards, one for each of us, in shiny mint condition. I just cut those up myself.

Perhaps once all the Legals are tidied up, and sorted out, I might take a trip to my homeland, to stay with family.

I am making no plans or decisions.

I just take a day at a time.

Solace

2011-06-17T12:36:00.000+10:00

I am not sure why I named this post Solace.

At present, there is no solace, other than I am a scooped out hollow, which is frozen. Every now & then a hole appears in the ice, and it flows out as hot scalding tears.

I wanted to write to thank you all for your wonderful kind words of support and your love and kind thoughts. I wish I could thank you all personally.

I have not been much on the computer. My days are often blurs.

I have had a small stay in hospital, a mystery infection of some sort, but now 'they' tell me I am to have cardiac investigation. Like Les, I was glad to get out of Hospital.

I feel I am too raw to write about much.

I will just say, I have double grief, as little Leo is no longer with me. I cannot write about that for now, and I grieve as much for both of my "Leos". Some time I will mingle their ashes and they will always be together.

Gom's favourite quilt I gave him. He spent his last days constantly wrapped in it's vibrant, warm love.

Here he is with his beloved mate.

He gave me these beautiful roses, to thank me for looking after him. We had yellow roses for him at our private goodbye.

Here he is with his beloved Daughter, on her wedding day. He was so proud he was well enough to walk her down the path to be married. He was so ill, and so tired, he did really well.

Here we are together, just before I took him home to put him to bed. This is the last pic of us together.

This is where it all began, 45 years ago.

There seems to be no solace for me, at present.

My Beloved Brother and Sister came from New Zealand and spent 6 days with me. I did so appreciate their visit. Family are a type of solace, I know.

Scott Joplin, Solace

R.I.P. GOM.

2011-06-02T07:17:00.001+10:00

Gom passed away peacefully on Sunday night at 1.30am. I am so glad I was holding his hand, when he took his last, peaceful breath.

He had a horror of hospital beds, and of the thought of strangers washing him.
In the end none of that was needed, and we managed to care for him right to the end. We had wonderful help from our Doctor. He made 5 Home visits to medicate Gom, and make sure we were alright.

A Palliative Care Nurse came on Sunday afternoon and fitted a syringe pump, to keep Les completely comfortable. She is a kind, loving, and very empathetic Nurse, and I appreciated her lovely hug as much as everything else she did and helped us to do.

Les did not wish to have a funeral, so we are having a Private Cremation on Friday afternoon, for Family only.

His little dog Leo is so confused and seems to search constantly for Les's return.

Friends, both near and far, are comforting and supporting me as much as they can.

It all seems unreal, really. I have to just take it an hour at a time.

We were married for 45 years, and it is going to be so hard to live without him.

Thankyou for all your caring thoughts you have sent us.

When we first met, GOM always played this song for me, on the local Jukeboxes in Cafes.

Dusty Springfield, I Only Want to Be With You.

Teo Toriatte

2011-05-20T20:53:00.000+10:00

A song from Queen seems to be appropriate.
I hope you hear the words.

We are living with "End Stage" which is very confronting.
And very fearful, for all concerned.

I know so many of my friends have already faced this journey.
I know so many of you have managed to survive this hideous trasition.

I do not not know how we will ultimately traverse this phase.

We take each day as it comes, and read our part from what transpires in any given hour.

We have support of Palliative Care. We have had ACAT assessments done, advising of high levels of Residential care.

We are yet to have the Community Nursing Care to visit.

I wish to care for Gom, in our home, untill the end of his time. We have been advised this should be possible.

There is no further medical intervention or investigation to be undertaken. He has ceased his Transfusions, and is visibly weaker, each day.

I try for strength each day. I have lovely support from our Son and our Daughter, and also our Granddaughter.

I have a recently bereaved Mrs Nice Neighbour to support me.
Our new GP is so supportive, it is comforting to know we have his backing care.

Queen, Teo Toriatte
http://youtu.be/YG0AUw8B7Yk

Looking for the Treats..

2011-05-06T23:05:00.000+10:00

I am looking for the Treats in Life, free or otherwise.

They do not seem abundant at present.

We have learnt sad news of Gom's decline, which cannot be reversed, and which is progressing much faster than we had thought.
I had suspected as much, so requested an appointment with the Specialist, who confirmed my worst fears. There will be no trip to the City Hospital, for life improving procedure.

Gom had a choice of continuing on with transfusions, or ceasing altogether, along with 2 other choices. We were told that life expectancy would only be 4 to 6 weeks, if he ceases to be transfused.

I cant describe how badly I wanted to cry, and scream. I forced back the tears, and put on a brave face, for Gom's sake. He took the news quite calmly really. I suspect he knew in his heart, that his time is short.

We will just have to make our last days together as lovely as we can. Gom is aware of what is happening, and the fact that our days together are numbered now. We have had some really nice time together, recently, talking about how things will pan out. It is nice to think we can still have a laugh together, in spite of the grim outlook. We have both found humour to be a great salvation in times of extreme duress, and distress.
Times in our life together that have rocked our foundations.

Today was a Free Treat, in a way.
Gome slept late, and when he woke, he got up by himself, and came to tell us he wanted to take me/us, out to lunch, for a Mother's Day treat.

We were astounded, as Gom has been so tired and listless, it was amazing to see him so determined to go out. He managed to shower and dress himself, and even put his shoes on, without help.
Our son took us to a Club, and we had a lovely lunch, with Gom eating more than we have seen him eat in 4 days!

When we came home, he was happy, and warm, and he said he had really enjoyed our time out, and he seemed content.

Palliative Care is needed, we are told. I have contacted an Aged Care service for help. I will not be holding my breath for when either will eventually 'get around to us'. This area has the reputation as being what is termed 'God's Waiting Room'.

All I know is, we are determined to keep Gom home, with comfort and his beloved Leo, as long as we possibly can.

Sadness washes over me in engulfing waves, that threaten to drown me. I must remain strong for Gom's sake. He told me he will go into Hospital, if that will make my life easier. It breaks my heart, to think we lost a year of such closeness, because the Dr's we had would not medicate Gom when I asked them, as he was so changed and irrational. Our new GP is incredulous we have suffered so needlessly.

No looking back, and taking each day as it comes is the best we can do now.
Queen, Long Away.

This Day

2011-04-24T18:24:00.001+10:00

This day, I stopped to admire the Free Treat of my lovely, soft pink, single petalled Camellia. Not a raving beauty, but somehow a simple soft, and complete flower that brings me much joy. It reminds me of the delicate Briar roses, that grew wild in the dusty little streets, close to the Railway line, in the small country town where I grew up. We used to pick the roses, in those dusty roads, and admire their simple beauty, the hint of perfume. They were best left to their prickly traling branches, as they soon wilted, once picked.

We have an extra Long Weekend, here in Oz, and also New Zealand, because of Anzac Day, 25th April, falling so close to Easter.

I have blogged of Anzac Day before. It is to commemorate the fallen, who fought in World War 1 and World War 2, and also, all the other Wars which have claimed the lives of valiant Soldiers, Sailors and Air force personnel, not least being the hideous, (and I believe wrong,) Vietnam War. Service men and women, were altered irrevocably by these Wars, and indeed, any War, and perhaps, it was the 'lucky' whose bodies died.
Many survived, to spend a living hell, for the remainder of their 'lives'.

Their shattered bodies may have healed, but the mental scars and the long term health issues haunted them, and their families, forever.

I did not intend a dark post.

Here is Honey, absolutely refusing to look at the camera. She badly needs a grooming, and a haircut- or wool clip, to be more exact! She reads me just thinking about the scissors, and she scarpers!

Here is Gom, sitting in his chair, with his beloved Leo at his side.
Gom is not travelling too well, these days. He is very tired and very weak at times. He needs regular transfusions of blood every week.

He does get a lot of comfort from his little Leo, being so loyal. There are mornings when I fear to look at Gom, but when I see Leo there, I know he is looking after him.

Yes, yes, the socks... Gom refuses to wear slippers. He says only 'Old Men' wear slippers, and when I gently suggest he has become an 'Old Man' he scowls.

I am managing better now, with support from our new GP. I still have rough days and sad days, but Gom is calm now, and I can better cope with the highs and lows of our lives.

Some folk suggest I pour a little too much 'personal' into the blog. Perhaps I do, but I have learnt my blog ~friends can be a very supportive and comforting bunch, in times of dark despair!

Oh to be Morty, who can abandon himself with utter ease. Here, he is so relaxed as to be almost limp! What a great art.

We have had mixed weather for the Long Weekend. It has been very warm, then quite cool, and we have had a few cold mornings, Cold early evenings, humid midnights, and a few sprinkles of showers. Four Seasons in one weekend!

Quilts on, quilts tossed aside! I had a sleepless night last night, so I read a lovely book, and this morning, I finished it! It is 'Jacaranda Blue', by Joy Dettman, who is an Australian author, and I recommend it to anyone who loves an Aussie story, with true colour. To me, her stories rank up there with Tim Winton, who is a fantastic Aussie Author.

Reading has become a luxury, a stolen pleasure.

Roy Orbison, Blue Bayou

The Last Summer of Childhood.

2011-04-18T21:40:00.001+10:00

Do you remember your 'Last Summer of Childhood"?

I think I do.

It was that last Summer, when you felt goofy enough to still be childish, but knew you were about to be expected to begin to behave, as an Adult, with 'decorum' and 'maturity'.

Though, really, what did those terms mean, in the REAL world, as you knew it??

It seemed to mean, you could no longer wade through mud, in creeks and gullies, where you had spent time, frittering away hours, as you built a dam, to stop the full flow of the creek. Then, when you released the dam, you watched with fascination, as the water gushed to rush free of all restriction.

You pulled clay, from the banks of the creek, and fashioned it into models. Ducks, bowls, and various weird looking creatures.

You waited, naively, for the clay figurines to dry, in the hot Summer sun, then you painted them, and glazed them, with domestic varnish, you stole from your best friend's Brother-in law's shed, in the hope they might prevail, in some space and time, in the future. Some little portion of this last, magical, childish Summer may exist, long after all had changed.

Your observations of the sun, gleaming through the delicate spider webs. The beautiful silver strands so delicate, yet so strong, but ultimately, so very fragile. Swept away, with the sweep of a hand, or the rush of an insect, too strong to be captured, in that fine web.

Your fondness for the moss, the delicate ferns, that grew on the side stones of the creek.

How beautiful they all seemed, as if viewed through an exaggerated magnifying glass, a type of 'diamond view',of perfection, to last the rest of your days of living memory. How precious the memories were, to be stored, and savoured, as a milestone in your life.

The trips to the Beach, which was a local "Resort", of the day, which were so exciting., and so intimidating, as the promenading young men, swaggered and strutted up to the Milk bar. The songs on the Jukebox, which made the heart ache, and seemed to offer an adult world, filled with romance, and 'love' everlasting.

The final 'School Holiday', spent at an Aunt and Uncle's farm. The secret excitement of the invitation for a 'date' after the holidays, when you would have officially 'left School' and become, somehow, an Adult!

The secret Admirer, someone a little older. How daring. How exciting to think, you might finally enter the realm of Adulthood. How exciting to think he might consider 'dating' an ex school girl!

The music all seemed to poignant, the dew on the grass seemed to cast such gems of light, in the early morning sun. Like the shades of your best friend's mother's cut crystal, in the light of the sun, through the afternoon rays, of the open curtains.

Or, your Aunt's diamonds, in her ring, that shed such beautiful shafts of light, in the sunshine, at the shearing shed.

After all, it was all Illusion. It was the Last Summer of My Childhood.

Tussles with..".Bastards Inc"

2011-04-17T21:56:00.000+10:00

I suspect, we have all had our tussles, with 'Bastards Inc'. You know the ones. They seal the tops on the small plastic pots/jars of "Fruit Jellies" ~ supposedly for children to take to school, to use as snacks at Recess, or whatever they currently call the morning/afternoon tea break.
It seems to me, no person with average intelligence, or strength, can open these sealed treasures, without the aid of a blowtorch, or a superhuman thumb!!

'Bastards Inc' design the seal for the tops of 'Child Proof' bottles of pills, that must be accessed by the aged to keep their lives in continuity, and prevent the 'children' from access to same. If the Elderly could only open them, that is!! I am sure the young could open them as easily as a hot knife might cut butter!!

One of the worst 'Bastard's Inc" inventions, is the telephonic system that uses 'Voice Recognition'. You get asked questions, and you are asked to reply, (" I will understand your answers" the disembodied automated voice intones,) with a choice of several 'responses'. Too bad, if your answer does not tally with one they expect to 'hear'. The stupid machine keeps saying "I am sorry, I did not hear your answer" and the stupid question will be repeated. Finally, when you are screaming into the phone, ~always remembering not to utter obscenities~ you may, if you are lucky, be transferred to a 'live' person.
I use 'live' here with quotations, because they, also, may be automated. They claim to be 'live' but the truth of this is often doubtful. The responses seem so far removed from human understanding.

Oh Yes! 'Bastards Inc' are very much alive, and, I suspect, hoping we will all give up, and Abandon All Hope.

'Bastards Inc' inhabit our daily lives, with increasing prevalence. I suspect they are hoping their stealth and silent takeover tactics will not be recognized.
How sad I feel at the realization that this must be true.

The false lulling into acceptance of their infiltration. The meek acceptance of statements, that, upon later analysis, seem to be nonsensical, and totally irrational.
All the work of insidious 'Bastards Inc".

Here, is the disdainful Morty, who would choose to lie about, in seemingly carefree ~ or should that be, arrogant~ abandonment.

He is one very strange animal, and is not in the least inclined to be affectionate, or cuddly. Should one attempt any type of closeness, he is just as likely to attack, with bites, and scratches, as purrs, or even acceptance of attentions.

He has adopted our Son's stored Leather chair as his preferred daytime hideaway.
As our son says, he has "Mortified" the chair, with a nest of shed hairs, and his daily slumber.

Ah, the Mortification of an adopted feline, who is so affiliated with 'Bastards Inc'.!!

However, I still love him, unconditionally, and will continue dialogue with him, and the feeding of him, upon his loud demands.
There is no doubt that cats command their own agendas and their own proud indifference to the wishes of their 'staff'!

Returns

2011-04-06T20:51:00.001+10:00

She watched the plume of the dust, travelling up the long, dusty road. It seemed to melt into the smokey-leaved Eucalyptus's, to be absorbed by their branches, and mottled, peeling , trunks.

When his Ute screeched to a halt in her front yard, she was standing, defensively, on the front veranda, her body stiff with anger, and a little, hesitant, expectancy.

She watched him leap from the Ute, his dusty jeans faded and torn. His shabby boots and faded shirt, some sort of defence, or a vulnerability, to her eyes.

Her heart went weak, at the familiar shabbiness, but she had a sudden stab of strength, and she faced him defiantly.

"What are you doing here?"

Not so much a question, as a statement.

"I thought we might talk."

"Talk seems little,... a little, a lot too late?"

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and felt a sudden surge of angry power, as if, she was in charge of this encounter.
She crossed her arms in a protective gesture, and glared at him, as he stood, a little indecisively, with one foot on the bottom step of the veranda.

"There is nothing to talk about." She swayed a little when she said this.

Her body, surely, seemed about to betray her. She thought 'I refuse to cry, or break down! No one is to see the depth of my grief! Not even his father!'

Their marriage had seemed to gradually sink into nothingness.She could not define any moment or time when it had begun to fray, unravel, and fall apart.
They had just seemed to become separate entities, with silent feelings and sole thoughts, emotions, ideas, and perhaps, even dreams.

Their son was the only cement, which had kept them together. He was a bright light for both of them, and he could bring them together for a time, when he broke into animated discussion of his school achievements, or his running victories.

His face would light up, and he would recount his running triumphs, and make them both laugh, to hear how he planned the strategy of his races. He was so swift and true to his passion for running, they both stopped to listen and applaud. They did their best to attend every race he was in, to watch his triumphs, together.

When he drowned, aged Fourteen, in the Damn on their property, no one in the community could believe it. He had been such a strong swimmer. Such a strong Athlete.
How could this have happened? Where had his parents been? Had they not known he was swimming in the damn?

The self recriminations for both of them had haunted them. There was no coming back from this tragedy. They both blamed each other. They both blamed themselves.

There was no road back from this.

There were no returns.

Ghastly Choices.

2011-03-18T00:14:00.000+11:00

We are faced with some ghastly choices. Though, strictly speaking it is not "WE" who are faced with this dilemma.

How does one decide if one wishes to continue to be treated, for an essentially terminal disease?
Not my decision to make. However it is now Gom's decision.

His quality of life has been diminishing, and he is faced with possible death, from withdrawal of treatment- which he has expressed as being his chosen fate- or a procedure, which may give him a significantly improved, balance of life. It cannot be life saving, but alleviating the value, and quality, of remaining time.

It is a difficult choice, and I cannot decide for Gom. He has to make this choice for himself, based on how he feels.

Having seen him at his lowest ebb, and also having seen him after transfuions, and other life saving procedures, I am not convinced he is ready to 'throw in the towel', to use a sporting term. The basic hope for life's urge for continuance seems to spring eternal in the human heart.

He will face weekly transfusions, for the forseeable future, unless/until he has the procedure. If he does not have the procedure, he can choose not to undergo further transfusions. Surely, the beginning of his demise.

If he has the procedure, and it is unsuccsessful he will be back at square one.

We have a date, for consultation for the procedure, and that is the next step of the way.
I feel sure he is prepared to undergo the procedure, and essentially, is not ready to call it quits,- yet.

I was very pleased that his Specialist phoned me today, and gave me a chance to ask questions we had previously not had the opportunity to discuss. He is a very honest and forthright man. I appreciate his honesty. To me, it is a form of respect.

We have a new GP, who seems very caring, and optomistic.
I am having further tests re my health, and also, ongoing treatment.
I am pleased to learn there are new techniques, which will not involve painful, blood tests, which involved invasive taking of blood from my uncooperative, shrivelled, shy, and extemely painful veins. I could drink a gallon of water, and my veins would not want to see a needle of any description.

Why do the 'blood takers' refuse to listen when I tell them where the best site for obtaining blood, is located? Why do they insist they 'know better' and take if from horrible, painful, sites involving my wrist and thumb? GRRRRR!!

I feel ashamed, to be complaining about our lot in life. We have dear friends, who are undergoing far worse ordeals than we currently face.

******

An Indian Feast, designed by a creative eater! I do love Naan Bread!

Cloud Banks, tinted by the sunset.

Cloudbanks at the fading light.

The sky is a neverending panorama, to be enjoyed by all who might care to view. A Free Treat!

Global Crises

2011-03-12T22:59:00.000+11:00

Our particular little crises, seem to pale in comparison to the Global disasters we are witnessing.

Our beloved Christchurch, virtually destroyed.

Now. the hideous Earthquake in Japan.

We watch the events unfold, in fascinated horror. We feel ashamed at watching, but we want to know the magnitude and we feel for the suffering of so many.

We are quietly disgusted at the Media take upon it all. The incessant braying about the 'death toll'.?? What the Hell is that about?

They should surely be celebrating the living? Incomprehensible.
As our son would say; 'People are "No Damn Good"!'

Our thoughts and hopes are with the folks of all Earthquake affected areas.

We consider ourselves 'lucky; to just be dealing with personal 'crubbish'!.
I shamelessly stole this word from Kitty, who is a long time friend and blogger. I am sure she will understand, and forgive my stealth.

Gom is very unwell, once more, and I have had some further health issues. I refuse to address those at this time, and just want Gom to get the attention he needs.

I confess there have been moments when I have wished I could just drop dead, and not have to cope with anything, anymore!

There have been moments of such sadness, when we said Goodbye to our lady GP, as she has retired to look after her husband, who is forced to retire, due to his ongoing health crisis.
They are facing the return of her husband's Cancer. Everyone who knows them is utterly devastated by this news.

They have been such dedicated and caring Doctors, and they are/were a dying breed. True, Family GP's.

As our lady GP said, no one wants to work the long hours they did. No one wants to have to care, when they go home. Nowadays Doctors want to work out of Medical Centers, where they can "piss off home and forget it all" when their shift is over, to quote our lady GP. She is so right!

The beautiful receptionists, who were always so courteous and kind, and understanding, as they 'knew us' and knew our particular problems. How they will be missed!
So many receptionists seem to be Rottweilers or Pit bulls these days.

This is the way of the world now.

I have to add something happy to this post.

This is my Great Nephew, who has just turned Three, What a gorgeous boy, and Hope for the Future.

Sheryl Crow, & Sting.

Brief update.

2011-03-09T22:27:00.000+11:00

Gom is home once again.

We had him for 'Gate Pass' days but now they tell us he is not 'bleeding out' fast enough, to qualify as a Patient Transfer. He will have to be referred as an Out patient, and it is our responsibility to see he can attend.

I cannot drive that distance, nor can we travel by train, as suggested by some Doctors. Gom is almost blind, and I am crippled, so train would seem to be no option at all.
Our son had offered to take us, but that may entail his having time off work.

We had been offered a lift with our Son In Law, but seeing he had his hand broken, in the line of his employment, he cannot honour that promise, as he is in a Plaster cast, and a great deal of pain.

The Hospital has a record for hanging theiir employers out to dry. His Human Resources Pitbull representative, today, demanded to know why he was not reporting for work! What the Hell?? He is in pain, and has his hand in a plaster cast, awaiting assessment for surgery to repair the broken bone in his hand. I find the whole procedure ugly, inhumane, and obscene. The HR woman suggested to our daughter, that he needs to look at changing his job! How bloody inappropriate does this woman have to be, before she is sacked? What a horrible individual. No allowance for stress, or pain. A heartless person, just 'following protocol', to quote her.

We had learned, earlier in the day, that our GPs are closing their Practice as of this Friday. I cried. I was shattered to learn the male, husband, Doctor. has his cancer returned. His wife cannot possibly cope with a patient load of 1,000 plus. and I understand, wishes to care for her lovely husband. We are in mourning for everyone, as they have become friends, after 12 years of association.

We have had to scramble to find another GP. since we both seem to need ongoing care. It seems we are lucky to find a practice, which will accept us. How sad to think our Health system is so bankrupt.

We know Gom will need further tranfusions, but we are told it may be arranged for him to have regular transfions... whether he needs them or not! Hah! What a crock of rot!!
We had previously been advised he bleeds out approx one Unit every 3 days.
The sad fact is, when he comes home he inists on doing stupid things, which I am sure, accelerates his blood loss.

As I told the Dr, the mild, sweet old man they see in the Hospital bed, is nothing like the "Mr Poos", we have to deal with at home!

A very draining and exhausting shouting session ensued today. He went out to sulk, and has not spokent to me since.

Too much info, I guess. but I am at the end of patience, after all the cooking, and visiting, I have provided for him, while he was in Hospital.
He comes home, and turns into Toad. from Toad Hall!! GRRR!

Bryan Adams, Please Forgive Me.

So Fearful

2011-03-04T00:00:00.000+11:00

These are harrowing times.
Gom has been hospitalised four times, since 23rd Dec, 2010.

He loathes Hospital, even though the Nurses are all Angels, and he is given great care.

He mistrusts the food. He tries to get me to eat his plates of food. I do not take up his offers. I do love vegetables, which he does not! (The Pumpkin Soup was divine.) I do eat some of the Sweet potato, and the beans, which are very nice. He does not wish to taste the Veal something, though it looks, and smells, nice. The Chicken Apricot is rejected, as is the mashed pototo, and the beans, once again. (which were actually quite nice, & tasty!!)

His neighbouring bed mate has eaten all of his food. Gom has left all but a slice of bread, and a Yoghurt.

As this is his fourth admission since late December, and they feel he will keep on needing further treatments, involving transfusions and long hours spent in ED, and consequently various Ward Admissions, 'They' wish to perform a 'Proceedure" which could halt the condition. IE, the bleeding into his stomach.

This 'Proceedure' cannot be performed at our Local Hospital. It involves transfer, and admission to RPA, (I believe this stands for the Royal Prince Alfred) which is a large Sydney Hospital. We have trepidatious feelings about this transfer, and subsequent surgery, As I post, we have not been given a great deal of information, about this proceedure, or the risks involved.

A Nurse finally told us, that the transfer would not take place this evening. We had been waiting for the Doctor to give us a further update.
I spent the whole day at the Hospital, awaiting word, on what was to happen to Gom. Late evening a Nurse finally gave us some answers. It is the only failing in the system.
We are not advised often enough, or, in enough detail. The Doctor who came to advise Gom of the Proceedure, did not elaborate, nor detail what might be involved.

I was horrified to learn that Gom would be discharged in the Central City location of this Hospital, after treatment and perhaps subsequent after care.l. I cannot possibly collect Gom from this location. I will have to get either our son, or our son in law to collect Gom. It is all very distressing.

I am fearful that Gom won't return from this proceedure. On the other hand, he is very tired of all that he has had to endure, to remain, even half agreeable to us, as a family, I sometimes think Fate may hold the answers.... or perhaps, the winning cards.

Tomorrow is another day, and we are hoping for some ansers, and some positive news.

Life, at present is a SeeSaw, and we have no way to gauge the outcome.

Queen , You take my breath away.

Friends are SO precious!

2011-02-28T23:43:00.000+11:00

Recently, because of events outside our control, we have been taking stock of who, and where, and, perhaps, what, we are.

This my beautiful daughter, and I, on her wedding day.

I was so happy to share in her day of Joy, as she married the man of her dreams, and she feels, the man of her destination.

These next photos are from long ago, ~ and may seem inappropriate.
Perhaps I wish to post them, in affirmation of friends, who are gone, and perhaps no longer in our world.

This next photo, is of myself, with a lovely family friend from childhood, who has since died. We were fond friends and shared many memories of growing up together.

Here is a photo of myself on the left, and my BFJ in Nelson, when we went Apple Picking. What a revelation that turned out to be!! We shared our daily grind with an Author, and his beautiful Nordic wife. They were appalled at the conditions and housing we had to endure.

This photo of BFJ and I, taken in Neslon, would seem to indicate the toll the fresh bread, and the fresh apple diet had taken on us!

I am sure I had gained a good 10+ pounds. in 'old Money' so to say!!
My goodness, just look at those eyebrows, before I destroyed them..! Those chubby cheeks!!

This next photo is of a lovely Australian "'Gentle Man." He proposed to me, and I I did not accept. He returned to Australia, and proposed again. He was/is a lovely man, and I hope he found the happiness he deserves, when he returned to Australia, without me.

Our friends, truly are, where we find them.

Hope for the future, for all our friends, and all our relatives, and all those we love, who have touched our lives with love, both near and far.

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

There has been a recent birthday for me, and friends came to celebrate,

Not least of which, was my wonderful, beautiful, halfsister, from NewZealand. It was like a special treat to have her here. She is the image of our mother, and her every experession and mannerism, is like watching our mother, recreated, here on earth. When she left, it was like losing our mother, all over again.

She phoned me today, to give support and love. She is a true, and loving sister.

I am so lucky, with my family, as they are all supportive in our crises.

My dear old 94 year old Uncle rang me to wish me Happy Birthday. He is a lovely man, who never fails to say, "I love you girl!!" His wife is equally wonderful as she had embraced us all as 'her own'. I am blessed with a lovely, loving, and wonderful family, who are both relatives, and friends!

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

I have had wonderful messages of support and strenghth. over the past few days. We have had phone calls from friends in Christchurch, in resonse to our calls.

We just hope everyone is safe.

Love and thoughts your wayXXXXXXXXX

Too Sad For Words...

2011-02-26T23:17:00.001+11:00

I have found it almost too sad for words, to post about the Christchurch Earthquake.

How does one write about the destruction of a dearly loved city?

I remember all the good times I spent in that beautiful City.

My Gom was born, and grew to Manhood, in that City. Our children were born in that City.

I spent very many wonder-filled months in that City, with BFJ, who is my best friend. We laughed and cried together in that wonderful, mysterious, beautiful City.

We ran to work, our black stockinged legs flashing, through Latimer Square, which became a Triage Center for the wounded in the latest Eathquake.

We smelled the wonderful, woodsmokey air, in the evenings, as we ran home together, from nights out, when we chose to keep our own company.

The Street we shared a flat upon, is now, largely, destroyed.

My BFJ would now be a widow, ~though not as a result of this earthquake~ but the time has flown, and memories remain, of times, with joy, and laughter. Times as young mothers, young wives. Christchurch was a unique and magical City in many respects.

Memories of times spent with our children, upon the banks of the Avon River. Rambles in the Botanic Gardens, which were, effectively, our back yard, when we lived in the Inner City Hotel.

That Hotel is long gone, pulled down, because of instability, and a lack of interest in restoration. Our Country Hotel is now gone, as a result of the previous Earthquake.

A photo of the rubble left, after the Earthquake. This was once the Christchurch Anglican Cathedral, which was a landmark and the Central focus of the Square, of Christchurch's Central City. BFJ and I once visited on an Easter Sunday. Goodness knows why.

Another shot of the destroyed Cathedral. Many lives are believed to be lost in this Cathedral, when the earthquake struck.

The Earthquake did not discriminate between Religions. This is a shot of the Catholic Basilica, which stood on a steet BFJ and I once lived upon.

These are before and after photos of Christchurch Cathedral.

We seem to have no anchors left in that beautiful City, we love, and have loved, these many years before.

We have managed to contact most of our friends and the few relatives Gom has left. All say they are well, and safe.

We are nowhere near this disaster, physically, but mentally, it has left us all feeling very sad, depressed, and fearful, for the future of this once glorious city.

Our personal tragedies, and day to day dramas, seem to have little importance, compared to the magnitude of this tragedy.
We still have our lives, and we still have each other.

Chris Bolton. How am I supposed to live without you.

Little Wisdoms.

2011-02-11T22:17:00.000+11:00

Little Wisdoms, or Life's Free Treats, come in many guises.

One of my little Treats was upon alighting from our car, I spied the Dandelion in full bloom and full seed.

As I mentally recited, "One year's seeding, Seven year's weeding."

Little SG leapt from the car, and picked the full seed head, declaring.

"Oh Look! An Opportunity for making a Wish!!"

And he blew the little parachutes, loaded with their precious cargo, into the world!

I decided then and there, I needed to change my perspective and look upon the positive side of life, as it is presented to me.

SG is a source of wonder to us both, as he comes to visit, and spend time with us. He is so aware of the world, while being so aware of all the technological changes that are taking place. He has a very soft heart, and is a very loving, and rather gentle child.

On the other hand, he can exhibit quite ruthless thoughts about various things, when he deems it necessary!
"Well Nanna, dont worry about the Cicadas that Morty caught. Perhaps they were meant to die!"

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

We made a mercy, or therapeutic, visit to Gom, on his last Hospital stay- well the Xmas/New Year stay.
We loaded Leo into the car, and took him to the Hospital.
As I led Gom down the corridor to the outside door, he guessed what he was about to see.

His beloved Leo, who was somewhat freaked out at first, and he tried to leap into my lap! However he realised where he belonged in the end, and when I took Gom back to the Ward, he had tears in his eyes. He did declare he was so glad to have seen his 'Best Mate'.

Leo is his constant comfort and companion.

Leo has behavioural problems that our son disapproves of. I do too, but I can see, that out of Gom's narrow, & somewhat miserable life, he needs the comfort of Leo in his sad, diminished,

life.

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

On lighter note...

What is it, with me and hats??

I find I hate hats.

I have loathed them since I was very young.

I knitted, but refused to use, hats for my babies. Luckily, it was not really cold when they were born, so hats were not necessary.

I look at women, wearing knitted hats, crocheted hats, which I find very ugly.

Not the acutal hats, but the hats on heads.

I look at Pop Stars, who wear all manner of hats... why?

What are they hiding from?

Is it a way of proving your identity?

I find the male fedora, panama, or pork pie, or caps, of any description to be hideous to my eyes, upon female heads.

And, I must add, offensive to my eyes upon many male heads, also!

My son tells me to loosen up.

Hats are choices.

I just fail to get the message? the meaning? the statement?

How do you feel about Hats??!

Bread, If

Again, the Visitor's Chair...

2011-02-07T18:48:00.000+11:00

First, today's Angel, that came to visit it seemed, and waited for me to get my camera. Only for one pic though!

This is partly the post I had intended to write the first time I was a visitor to the Hospital, while Gom was so ill, and having treatment.

I never did complete the first account, and now, after his third stay, I have decided to write of the latest Ward.

It somehow seem irreverent to be writing of things that made me amused or horrified, in turn.
It is not to laugh at other's misfortune, but rather to dispel some of the horror as we all know what can, or may, befall us, at the ending of our lives.

During his latest visit to Hospital, which was due to a phone call from a Haematologist on a Sunday morning, to tell us to get Gom immediately to Hospital, as his blood count was dangerously low at his latest test, which had been done on the Friday, he spent considerable time in the ED, while they cross matched his blood again, and waited for a bed in a Ward.

Because it was Sunday, the 'Teams' of Doctors for his ongoing condition, were not on duty, but the blood transfusions could be started.

When I returned after having to rest myself, I was directed to the new Ward.

At the risk of sounding rude, Gom seemed to be the only 'sane' person in residence. In fact the nurses kept telling him he should not be on that Ward. The man in the bed opposite Gom, was of Arabic nationality I am guessing, (his wife was certainly very beautiful, in that lovely dark eyed way). I will call this man Yasmin, which is not his name, but one of the food service ladies dubbed him that, when she delivered his meals. I have no idea why, as his real name, displayed above his bed, bore no resemblance to 'Yasmin'.

I thought perhaps Yasmin had had a stroke, but apparently that was not the case. Gom learned, through the very public and loud conversations with Doctors, that he had some progressive disease, but was also now dying of cancer. He did not seem to speak much English, and he was very hard to understand. I felt really sorry for him, when he tried to speak to me, with his large, soft, sad eyes pleading to be understood. Nurses became somewhat impatient with him, as he refused to use his buzzer, and insisted on clapping loudly to gain attention. I pressed his buzzer for him, when he told me loudly "I need to pee!!" Every day, his lovely wife came to feed him his evening meal, arriving with three course meals of delicious smelling food. He routinely refused the Hospital fare, which was ~~completely crap~~ not all bad, though some was not exactly tempting!

To Gom's left was a man who really resembled the Parrot from upon the Pirate's shoulder! I dubbed him Parrot, mentally. He shouted very loudly every time he spoke, and demanded the nurses bring him his "Potty". One nurse, who admitted to Gom that she has no patience, snapped at him regularly, telling him he could walk to the toilet, using his walker. He kept having the most hideous sneezing fits, which shook the very curtains, and then he would shout "Pull you head in!!" several times, at the top of his lungs.
In between fits of sneezing, he told tales of choking people to death, and other preposterous stories, all of gory detail and horrible nature.

In the diagonally opposite bed, was a man who had MS, and he became agitated every so often, and his wife would sit and soothe him to calmness again. She told us he was waiting for a vacancy, in a Home , as she could no longer care for him herself. I felt very sorry for her, as she was having to sell their house, and was trying to ready it for viewing, whilst visiting him every day. All this, in searing heat, and exhausting humidity.

It is curious the way visitors make the acquaintance of each other, and the other resident patients. Hellos are said upon arrival, and farewells murmured at the end of the visit.

Yasmin would ask me the time each day, waiting forlornly for it to be 4.30 and the arrival of his lovely wife. Parrot would ramble on and on, with his stories and his sneezing attacks. Mr MS was very quiet, but would occasionally growl gutturally, perhaps because he was losing ability to speak.

Gom said the first night in this Ward was hideous. He could not sleep, and, though he is rather deaf, and would remove his hearing aids, he said there was constant talking. At first he thought it was Yasmin talking to himself, in two different voices, but he finally worked out it was Parrot, raving on, whereupon, Yasmin would answer him~ in Arabic! Of course none of it made sense, and Gom was surprised to realise they were both talking in their sleep, taking turns, in an apparent 'conversation'. He wondered fleetingly if they could understand each other!

Parrot went away to some Home, late the second day, to Gom's relief, and another terminal man was briefly in the bed, but they whisked him off after a few hours~ still alive, I might add! An old and extremely frail old woman was immediately wheeled into the ward, and she actually appeared to be deceased when she first arrived. However the nurses roused her, and got her sitting up in a chair. Not quite truly sitting up, as she kept lolling her head onto her chest and sleeping. Her bed table was carefully positioned in front of her chair, to prevent a fall to the floor.

Gom said she spent the night screaming at Yasmin, to "Shut up and go to sleep!!" as he spoke in his sleep.
The nurses had to hold her head up by the forehead to feed her, and she ate little but custard, jelly, and juice, and having no teeth, I guess that is all she could do. I was quietly appalled, and hope I never get to that stage. She certainly appeared to have no quality of life, either being asleep or needing to urgently use the toilet, and failure to make it, made her very upset. She was querulous and sharp with the nurses, demanding instant attention, which of course, they could not give, being run off their tired feet.

Another woman was given Mr MS's bed in the corner, and apparently she was quite deaf, had no hearing aids, and had the television blaring at top volume all night. It rather worried me when I overheard a Doctor explaining something to her about a heart monitor, as it appears she has the same problem as I have just discovered I have.
She became insistent she wished to speak with her daughter by phone, then, when the nurse brought her the phone, she insisted she could not hear anyone, and her daughter was not there. The nurse had to relay her wishes. I wondered why no one has told her about hearing aids. She said she lives on her own, so perhaps there is no one to get furious at too-loud TV.

Gom could not wait to be discharged, and he held his breath most of the afternoon of his discharge, hoping to reach the magic number on his blood count, so he could escape.
He had had another 7 units of blood, and also some surgical procedures. We know he will be needing more.

I hope he does not return to that particular Ward next time.

We have just survived the hottest week on record, and also lived through the hottest night on record. It sent us scurrying off to buy another aircon for our bedroom. It is lucky the Southerly storm blew in on Sunday afternoon, bringing fierce rain and howling winds, as well as fresh, heavenly cool air!

As if all this has not been enough, our TV aerial has been doubtful ~~read clapped~~ for some time, and a fierce storm had blown it very crooked. Finally today we had a nice man come and install a new one! Guess what~ it now gives perfect reception, and the picture is once again crystal clear. Gom has little to amuse him, but he can still watch TV if he sits almost upon the screen.

Perhaps the Extra Special Icing on our Cake, so to say, has been the ~~complete bastard~~ breakdown of our toilet cistern. I become furious with things that stop working. I want them fixed yesterday. I have wanted the wretched thing replaced, for the last 5 times we have had it repaired. This time my patience snapped, and we are about to get a new one! Who ever dreamed that one day I would be sublimely happy, at the thought of a new water cistern?

Our Neighbour, the Groom, who recently lost his Bride, came to visit this afternoon, to tell us he has had a stroke, and is now blind in one eye. He can no longer drive his car, and since he is a Horse Trainer, which has been his lifelong passion, he would hate to have to give up his work. He is still training his beloved horses, and is collected by relatives and friends each morning. He considers himself lucky to have had the clot stop at his eye, so he is not disabled or dead. He is over 80, so I felt a little ashamed when he said the alternative is not good, and I told him sometimes it seems damn attractive to me!

In the light of...

2011-02-05T21:21:00.000+11:00

A long time since I posted here.
The blog lies tired, weary, old, and mouldy.

In the harsh, and leathery, lined face, of Summer's harsh Season, we see the effects of too much sun.
Sere, best describes it all.
Too much extremely high heat.
Withering vegetation, browning, and dying, from lack of care, or water.

The rains of the early Summer have gone from our area of our State.

We watch with horror, as the deluges, and floods, and cyclones wreak havoc in our Northern, Queensland State.
The floods of the flowing waters travelling South to our Southern State neighbours, have travelled an inland path.

Leaving us high and dry.

If only some of that vast amount of water could have been diverted our way, to fill our thirsty dams.

Our personal dramas are quietly ugly.
Not as hideous as our Neighbours, but nonetheless, horrible, for us to live through.

Gom has been Hospitalised again.
He is home once again, but is not, we know, fully 'Well'. Nor will he be.

Ongoing Hospitalisations are to be expected.

At least the Hospital is airconditioned and, whilst incarcerated therein, he is comfortable, if somewhat bored.
I don't mind sitting 'watch', over him, as he has his blood transfusions, and his iron infusions.

I sometimes feel I have learnt more about the human body, and it's workings, since he has been sick, than I ever did when I was nursing.

I have also learned that I need to listen to my body when I am feeling unwell.
I have been diagnosed with a problem myself.

It explains a lot, and I do not need to feel I am 'mentally unwell'. The diagnosis alone, helps to get me feeling better. Medication is also helping with feeling better. I am assured once meds are adjusted, I should feel very much better.

In the light of the TV screen, as I watch Gom, hunching close, in a chair, I feel so much compassion for his failing sight, his failing hearing, and his slightly/occasional, failing memory.

When he found out I too, am ill, he vowed to get better, and come home to take care of me!

In his last Ward, of Hospitalisation, there were many 'terminal' patients.
It has made me more determined not to get 'old' in that fasion, and I really do believe in Euthanasia by choice.

On a lighter side, I ended up in an area of the Hospital I was unfamiliar with- easily done, believe me, since they ~~stuffed up~~ redesigned our local Hospital!
As I was standing, feeling distressed and lost ~ lo~ an "Angel" came out of some wide doors.
I was swept into a hug, and a kiss on the cheek.
It was a beautiful man, (a friend of our daughter, and son in law) who drove me in his car, to the car park where I had my car.
The temperature was 40 degrees centigrade, and it meant I was spared a hot walk.

In my experience, Angels do come in many guises.

We have friends who have been so supportive. We know they are there, should we need their help.

The change in personalities from when Gom returned home after January 5th, to his 'new' persona, after this latest hospitalisation, is very disconcerting.

No one has answers for me.

I can't help but wonder why??

No one has any answers for me.

These are the 'Thankyou Roses' Gom gave me, after his first, post New Year Hospitalisation, release.

My absolute favourites, yellow roses.

I have the feeling there will be no roses this time around. He is very disgruntled and very 'scratchy'.

This hideous heat is no help to anyone, and we are truly 'stewing in our own juice' so to say!

Neil Diamond, Babara Striesand, You Dont Bring Me Flowers Anymore.
(but he did, and surprised me)

The View from the Visitor's Chair.

2011-01-12T22:15:00.000+11:00

This post, about the View, has been composed and written, but alas, it will not be posted now.

I will post about the View from the Visitor's Chair, ~~and the Smell from the Visitor's Chair,~~ but not this evening.

Suffice to say, Gom is home, safe and reasonably 'Sound'.

His life was saved on Christmas Night.

Thanks are due to the wonderful care he recieved, and the dedication of Doctors and Nurses in our local Public Hospital.

I would also add, the Specialist Doctor who cared for Gom, was dedicated to his job. Every day, from 23rd of December, until Gom's discharge on 5th January, that Doctor visited Gom, to keep a check on his progress.
It seemed to be dedication over and above his calling, especially during the Christmas and New Year period.

Gom is much happier to be home, if not stronger, at least more comfortable, in familiar surroundings.

Now, we watch with horror, the unfolding events in Queensland, where our fellow country folk suffer untold grief and misery, enduring the hideous floods, and resulting devastation.

We remain ~~far too~~ warm, and dry. We have had much more rain than is usual for this time of year. But we have no floods, and no danger of floods.

Slim Dusty, When the Rain Tumbles Down In July. (Not strictly the correct time of year.)

An Angel's Golden Feather,

2010-12-30T22:22:00.000+11:00

I am not sure if I really believe in Angels, but I think I do.

On Christmas Night, Gom was at death's door.

As I sat vigil, so fearful he would die, I looked out the window of his hospital room and say a golden curled feather, floating on the breeze? the updraft? the pull of the building?

I have no idea what kept the golden feather aloft, as it bobbed and floated before the window.

Up it came, and danced and floated, and slowly disappeared and reappeared.

It vanished for moments, and I thought of an Angel;s wing.

It was a feather from somewhere, that looked like no feather I had ever seen on any bird.

Suddenly, when I thought it had vanished, it reappeared, to dance it's little ritual dance all over again.

I felt curiously comforted.

I finally decided to leave the Hospital, and trust in the Staff, and, perhaps, a Golden Winged Angel, to save Gom's life.

He was being tended by an Angel of a Nurse, who was the most gentle and caring person I have ever met. I hope I see her again.

He was saved, by whatever miracle, and forces, and the hard work, of wonderful Staff for the whole of that hideous night, as he hovered so close to death.

He made it through that awful night. He is still here, and I keep thinking of that Golden Feather.

We hope he will be home soon after New Year.

He is improving now, after another proceedure today, which seemed to go very well.

As you may guess, our Christmas is one we never wish to repeat.

Cat Stevens Tuesday's Dead.

Ratbags, and Libertytakers... And some weighty Skies!!

2010-12-13T21:18:00.000+11:00

When I add pics to my blog lately, I seem to have trouble aligning the type. I wish to begin in the left, but the script refuses to obey, and orients to the center... regardless of my instruction.

Does anyone have an answer to this dilemma? Comments welcome!

Our long serving, ~~and no doubt suffering~~ Washing machine, has finally decided to quit. As it is now over 13 years old, it is deemed to be past it's actual "Use By".

Time was, you bought an expensive appliance such as this, and it would last almost a lifetime- or the length of your marriage, depending on which was shorter!!

Do you think the sky was sending some message? This was a slightly threatening look, before the breakdown of the washing device!!

Is this a picture of a "Glowering Sky"? I have often wondered at that particular term, for skies!

And, later, as it darkened. Wonderful patterns.
I was not the only one to be out capturing this sky display. More than one neighbour was watching, and photos were taken.

As it darkened deeply, there was the flash and flare of bright gold, upon the horizon, echoing over the cloud canopy.
Not really menacing, but not quite comforting.

At the "Marketplace" today, ~~determined to be Tough, and, 'wheel and deal'~~ ~well, I can kid myself I am tough, and astute!

We first enquired of a Seconds Establishment, thinking perhaps we could score the deal of the decade, with a ding or a scratch.

We looked at the offered products, discussed the merits and demerits of various washers.

I know Front loaders are said to be most economic. But I am now old and arthritic of body, so stooping to load and unload a Front Loader... I dont think so!!

An older Brand, trusted, and successful in the past, is now advised to be a costly, and faulty, trap. Trading on past reputation for reliability. No longer manufactured by the same people and no longer trustworthy, so we decided not to look in their direction.

The New Kid on the Block is a "Sumting", ~~obviously not their real name!~~ and we are advised it is excellent in both performance and reliability, to say nothing of durability.

For little discount, we are offered a dented and also paint scraped model, with a horrendous 'delivery fee'. I am taken aback.

I declare, I will look about, & see what is available, at rival retailers.

"By all means" beams the salesman, who has suddenly decided he could 'deliver the washer for a fee, of $15 less, than their 'regular delivery man'. Which still meant $40.

So, off we sped, to another retailer, reknowned for their 'deals'.

"Oh Yeah!" thinks jaundiced me!

We find the exact same washer on offer for the same price as the 'Seconds'.?? ~~what?, I thought dings and dents reduced the price?~~

Upon enquiry, I find I can have the washer delivered free, and installed, along with removal of the old washer, and it will arrive tomorrow, and it will be $115 cheaper than the damaged washer!

Wha????

Who is fooling who? I just do not get it. It does pay to shop around. But why am I left with the feeling someone has been fooling me. Or, more probably, is still fooling me!

Still, I am just happy to think I can begin washing tomorrow! We are running out of clean clothes!

My son suggested going naked, but I know that is defininetly not a Good Look! Not this year, anyway!!

Mark Knopfler, Telegraph Road.

Life at the "Pointy End".

2010-12-01T22:13:00.000+11:00

Or, should that be, 'Nose Cone'?

Whatever term you choose to use, I dare to state~ it is NO FUN, when you are 'Mature'!!.

I have recently had to resort to consulting a Podiatrist, to try to enable walking.

It seems my skeleton has much Arthritis, and my feet are afflicted.

Unlike my friend Ali, I have not had much success, with my podiatric treatment! (Is there such a word, as 'podiatric'?? I am too lazy to look it up on Google). I must add here, I have no idea if Ali's problems are arthritic.

I consulted with an Orthopeadic Surgeon, who gave me several options for surgery, and an option to consult with a Podiatrist.

Being a coward, I chose the lesser treatment.

The Podiatrist I was given the referral for, had a very unfortunate Rottweiller (to me) manning the telephone. After being initially barked at, and told the exact amount of money I would need to front up with, I timidly made an appointment, which I was subsequently unable to attend, due to other pressing health matters of Gom.

I hasten to add here, that I made sure to cancel the appointment in plenty of time. A holiday occurred in the meantime, also, so I did not have actual vocal contact with the Rottie.

In the meantime, I needed to be shod to attend our Daughter's wedding. I chose soft, suede, flat, shoes. Almost slippers, I foolishly thought, on initially trying them on. Bliss! I foolishly thought.

What an idiot I was! they proved to be so crippling, I had to hobble to the car, since I was the driver.

These soft shoes, they look so innocuous! So comfy, so harmless! How could they cause such agony?! How could they cripple me, and almost reduce me to tears?

This is the offending foot. I would venture to say, it is a totally useless as a foot!! Never mind Footloose! How about Footless??

To cut to the chase, I chose another Podiatrist, after encountering the Rottie once more. This encounter led me to snarl, -in Rottie~like manner, I might add- that I would "just Limp to Hell then!" I hung up.

I phoned another Podiatrist, - this being the 'Holding Paddock' one might say... you Kiwis will understand this... -there is no shortage of Podiatrists, here in our Local area.

The lovely receptionist was polite, pleasant, and most sympathetic. Soothing, in fact! A very quick appointment was arranged. A fee, half the Rottie's Podiatrist, was quoted. ??
What is that about??

When I met the Podiatrist, he checked my Xrays, my gait, my pain levels. My ugly foot.
He fashioned this 'toe seperator'.
We have made many family jokes about the colour.. 'labia pink' being one. Another suggests folk might ask what my Bubblegum is doing, residing in between my toes?!! Haha, because I LOATHE bubblegum!! Or, indeed, any type of chewing gum there might be!

I am not sure the toe thingy is working. I have purchased some very expensive sandals, which are made for people with multiple problems, such as myself, . I will reserve judgement, but so far, the 'cures' have created other problems, with the fitted podiatrist insoles etc.

I do find all of this very discouraging~ as well as downright painful!

I would love to "Kick this Habit"!! haha.

However, there is always the Arrogant Morty to laugh at! Here he seems to be indignant at the fact I have dared to introduce a Sunhat into the house!!

And of course, here he is just letting us know, he Rules this house! And he will damn well lie where he chooses~ never mind if it is in the direct line of traffic to the toilet! Which, age would dictate, need not be hindered!!

And here is Honey, with her newly cropped Summer coat, courtesy of our Son~ & I. She is yet to be tidied, but I am sure she appreciates the cooler crop... raggedy though it might be!

And Leo, who tries so hard to be a 'good boy'. He has no idea, what being 'good' is! He is an indiscriminate piddler, and all our attempts to teach him about the niceties of polite society, seem to fall on deaf ears.

It is sad, as he is a very intellingent dog, and a very loyal, affectionate, and loving dog.

I guess, like our other family members, we have to accept him as he is. Warts- er, I mean pee- and all!

We had a 'street drama' a couple of nights ago.

I heard a dog screaming in pain, & rushed out into the street to find a large vehicle had bowled a neighbour's dog. A very small dog, who is non-road-savvy. I was upset, but the poor driver and his passenger were distraught. As it happened, I 'know' the little dog who was hit. She is 'road foolish'. She is a tiny black Poodle.

All is well, as she is alive, and almost recovered from the drama. I went to visit her this morning, and she is very well!

Her owners are so glad she is alive and OK. They are normally so careful, but accidents happen.

It was nice to see, there were other neighbours, who were drawn by the cries, and all were concerned to see all was well.

We do have the most wonderful neighbours.

I will just limp off to bed now! haha.

Chris Isaak, Somebody's Crying.

It is all in the Details.

2010-11-29T23:13:00.000+11:00

I think, most of our lives are contained, right there, in the details.

You know the ones. They are never evident upon first inspection.

Then they seem to seep into consciousness, and finally become the significant items, or aspects, that they acutally ARE.

At first, we may notice them, in a secondary way. They are part of the Wallpaper, or the Background Buzz. The misty glimpse, off to the side... the Ghostly Peripheral.

As they pass, we are suddenly aware of how truly signicifant they were/are.

Our Daughter has recieved her "Official" wedding Album.

I would say, for the most part, it is lovely and all that they had hoped for.

However the "Ghosts" are somewhat disturbing, or unsettling.
We can clearly 'see' the apparitions.
Since our Son is an expert in the field of Retouching, we are acutely aware that these pics have been faked.

It begs the question, Why would somone do that to Wedding Photos?
Why would they play such cheap tricks?

*********
Morty is Officially "Naughty Morty". He has become a Neighbourhood Busybody.

He can be seen lolling about the street, on the heat of the tarmac, pretending he is on the Riviera, (or some Kitty Equivalent!)
Newly added Son In Law, was to be seen flapping his arms and shouting, all to no/little avail, to get Haughty Morty off the very road he, SIL, was about to motor upon!
Morty just rolled over, then dashed off to hide under a wheel of vehicle parked on the side of the street.

SIL drove off, hoping the silly little feline did not choose to leap under his wheels!

Morty is now exploring the delights of the Newly Moved Neighbour's Three Story Boat!! This mighty edifice is parked on the newly owned front lawn, in place of much lovely, but now deceased, vegetation. Sad to see lovely plants cut down in the prime. But Newly Moved Owners can do as they see fit!
The Three Story Boat, has an ostentatious name. It sits there, almost dwarfing the modest house, in which it's new owners dwell. It rather takes one's breath away, this Three Story Boat.

However, Morty will not be intimidated. I am assuming he chooses his moments, when he knows the owner-dogs will not be present. On the other hand he seems to be cat, who does not give a sh!t!! He is bold beyond belief! He visits our Catless neighbour, and boldly Meows from his terrace, as if he owns the place! Luckily our Catless neighbour does not mind at all.

The Owners of the Three Story Boat would seem to be lovely people. His dogs are certainly impeccably behaved! They are obedient, and wonderfully well mannered... (as opposed to our little demons, who are apt to bark inappropriately.)The man mows Mr & Mrs NN's lawn, since learning of Mr N N's illness. We really do have the nicest Neighbours anyone could desire.

*******
Our Lovely Son fears he may have broken a bone in his foot, or worse, done tendon damage, after a leap into water, too shallow. The Xrays have proved inconclusive, but his pain is very real. The swelling is an evident detail. He awaits a 'higher' opinion. An expert reader of the 'details'. Two days before he learns the outcome of the Expert Reading. After we spent 4 hours waiting for some results...
I suppose 4 hours was short, compared to the 7 year wait for a knee replacement in the UK, a Podiatrist told me about!! And I have been told to expect 10 months! I feel very lucky!! (Or Not)

They do say , "The Devil is in the Detail".

Bread, Diary

No, Really!, I live in a Parallel Universe..and it is all GOOD!

2010-11-17T21:03:00.000+11:00

You know the one... it has no arthritis, no ugly bits, and all is much the same, but without the pain. There are no dental dramas. No news of possible 'freaky diseases' with no known cause, and no known cure.
Or the fuzzy bits where the brain forgets the correct spelling for words.
HALP!! I ased to be such a good speller!!

These are some pics of my most loved beings on the Planet. I am sure they exist in my Parallel Universe, just the way they appear, here in this Universe!.

This Girl loves her Dad, who came through for her Wedding Day.

This is some random crap I came up with, while we sat in our Parallel Universe, waiting for the Thunderstorms to arrive. They did arrive, but my photographic record was NIL!
Of course, in the Parallel Universe they were all recorded in complete clarity, and somewhere out there, in Cyber Space, they glow!

Here is a loved Sister in Law, in a garden. SIL is a wonderful gardener, and her fingers and thumbs are so green, they are dazzling!! And luckily, she carries this talent into the Parallel Universe!! (Or from here-on, it shall be known as PU!)

Here, below, are all people I love. Most of them are rellies, and some are Honorary Rellies. One is my Step Granddaughter, on the right. A Gorgeous, Sweet, Loving, Girl..
The Gorgeous Girl on the left in the pics is an Honorary Granddaughter. A part of our loved family. Hi Jas!!XX
And next to her, is my Gorgeous Granddauther, who has been so kind, and so caring for me ove the past few weeks. Love You Gorgeous Girl!!

These people are loved dearly and they are the NN"s, and Family.

OMG! I forgot how to spell Tuesday?? This is a real worry. This does NOT happen in the Parallel Universe I really live in. In that Unieverse, I can still spell.

In that Universe, I have not gone quietly crazy, trying to deal with all the dross and crap that life hands us all, in due time.

My teeth are still perfect, and I have no issues with strange oral diseases. or denture fittings. I am still able to walk freely, with no broken rib, and no fecked knee, or foot.

The folks- read Specialists!- I have to see, to sort out these 'wrinkles' are not nasty, nor do they have 'guard dogss' on their phones, who are even nastier!!.

In this Universe, the problems all have solutions.

In this Universe, I am singing and dancing. With no 'flat notes' and no 'faltered steps'. Mrs NN and I are dancing up & down the street "Naked"!! in this PU.! We love it!!

Trust me, we have discused this scenario, & all it's gaudy minfestations. I think we have decided to wait another five years before we actully do it!!

One might be thinner, but heaven forbid the other is thinner!! We trust she might 'fatten up'!!

All good for laughs in the Parallel Universe!

Wasn't It Good. Tina Arena

Angels.

2010-11-11T11:17:00.000+11:00

I really do believe in Angels.
On this day My Angel was born, so Happy Birthday Sweet Daughter J.

On Saturday 6th of November 2010, our Angel got married to her Sweetheart, of 10 years.
They celebrated in a Park in a simple ceremony tailored to their wishes and their circumstances.

Though Gom is ill, he was able to walk his daughter down the path to be married.

There was a photographer for the ceremony, but we had forgotten about 'Leaving Home'.

Our Angel Neighbours, Mr & Mrs NN came to the rescue, with a video, and also photos.

Here is the Bride leaving in her brother's rather special car.

Such a proud Groom. He had the biggest smile I have ever seen and it lasted all day.

Here they are with their proud Son our SG. He looked so nice in his suit and he was so proud to read a poem with the Celebrant.

Nerves were apparent, for our Daughter J.

It was a very unseasonably cool day. It had poured with rain for the preceding hours, but fined up in time to dry most of the worst wetness off the grass.

The "Mums" bore Witness, in front of their offspring.

A Sand Ceremony was performed, for the blending of the two families.

Their happiness warmed the cool Park.

And Meggie and Gom managed to stay quite late.

We left the party just after this photo was taken. The rain had returned and Gom was very chilled.

Angels had ensured that the rain stayed away for the Park Ceremony, and the serving of the Buffet Meal. It later rained, but there was a Marquee, and a Jukebox and much fun was had by all.

I would like to thank my wonderful Angel Neighbours, Mr & Mrs NN and my Beloved Brother for these photos. The official ones wont be ready for some time, but I think these have captured the happiness very nicely.

Woo Hoo. We are having SG for a few days while the Newlyweds go off to Honeymoon in seclusion at a Resort. Our wedding gift to the Happy Couple.

This song was played before the wedding.

Nick Cave Breathless

How many grains of sand...

2010-10-31T22:13:00.000+11:00

Shamelessly borrowed from websites, advertising for tourism. I hope I am not breaking any laws, or upsetting any businesses. The Bay of Plenty is a wonderful place to visit, and, a wonderful place to grow to maturity!

This is a pic of the spit of the Mount.

This view, here below, taken from the top of the Mount, looking South, or more realistically East South East, depicts the Blowhole, with Motiti Island in the more distant background. I hope these give some perspective, to my story and the pics I have posted here.

Of course here is the Mount, beloved by young teenagers, of my day, as a 'Conquest'! We would walk our way around and up this Mount, and view the surroudings, and feel triumphant, at having achieved such a feat.
There might have been a hug or two on the way up... even a kiss perhaps.

When we were young school children, we would be bussed from our home town school, for a Picnic Day at the foot of the Mount. There was so much sand! Which I now consider in a different light!!
There were Donkey Rides. Poor docile Donkeys, they were so patient and long suffering.

I happened to notice, a strange item of news, while I was perusing a Newspaper site, of the New Zealand Herald . It concerned this beach of my childhood.
A beach, which featured in a large part of my growing/maturing years.

The 'beach', (which perhaps should be known as Beaches), is Mount Maunganui, and it has a small Mount, at the end of a spit of land, as in my nicked pic. One side opens onto the Ocean, and the other, is the Harbour side, which is calm, sheltered, and waveless.
It was an ideal beach destination when we were all ages, since the Harbour side was mostly shallow, and ideal for small children to learn to swim or just paddle.

The Ocean side, was where we went to surf the waves and swim in the sometimes, mighty breakers of foam, as they hurled themselves endlessly to the sandy shore.

I have previously posted this picture of myself, on the left, and a little friend, Norma, - we still keep in touch today. In the background can be seen, what I think, is either Motiti Island, or the Mount.

This was taken at approximately the same location, as the first photo, but this time I have 'grown up'. I was a trainee nurse, and much of our spare time was spent at the beach!

Looking at the pic, to the left is the Blowhole, and Motiti Is. is once again in the background.

This next was taken in a rock hollow at the Blowhole, which we frequently visited to watch the water blast up through the hole in the rock.. I can remember the name of my companion, but I am wondering who took the photo?? I have no idea, as I felt just the two of us made the trip, on one of my days off. Obviously not the same day as the bright photos.

This is rather chilling, as it would seem to be in almost the exact location of the "Bones on the Beach" photograph featured in the Postcard. It was taken on the same day as the standing photo, on that grey sand.

Somehow this is horrible to see. I was intrigued/saddened/horrified, by the postcard, and the accompanying article in the NZ Herald.

I somehow found this unutterably sad.

I do not have any religion, but I do feel much respect, for those of us who have gone before. I have many Maori friends, who were 'local', and I am so shocked to think we were never made aware of this event. None of my family have any memory of this happening. I am surprised to think it was not local folklore. Why did no one tell us? I feel crass, somehow, not to have been aware.

I find I think of the grains of sand, and how they are filled with the grains of our beloved, who have gone before.

After all, we are all one!

Tina Arena, Now I Can Dance. I LOVE this song!!

Comforts...or are they?

2010-10-27T00:17:00.001+11:00

Much is written these days about so called "Comfort Foods".

I know I am somewhat of a freak, when it comes to my choice of "Comfort Food".

Chocolate has never been my choice. Offer me a Chocolate, or a Grilled Cheese dish, ~and Grilled Cheese will win every time!

Or better still, offer me Cheese and a Flaky Pastry, plus, perhaps an onion/combination, and I am gone! My "Ultimate Swoon" Food!

Offer me a steak, I will shudder. But offer me fish, of almost any type, and I will be transported with delight.

I am not mad about Mussels, nor Pauas. Pipis, or Cockles, I can take or leave- these days preferably leave! Though in our young days we would -cruelly, I am ashamed to admit- bit the 'toungues' off the raw Pipis as we dug them out of the sand.
I am appalled now, to think of this hideous act, and I wish I could apologise to every Pipi I maimed, or wounded!

I do love a rich Vegetable Soup, and I love Barley as an ingredient for any Soup. Comfort Food indeed, to my palate.

Potatoes score high in comfort food lists, and any method of cooking them, meets with my approval.

Something I do find, of late, is a love of salt.

I suspect this is not a good thing. Salt, tends to make one's aging body retain fluid, which is not desirable for many reasons. Fluid retention, and Heart disease, being two of the major "No No's"

Given the choice between a few chocolates, or a bag or two of Potato Chips, or Crisps, and you can have the Chocolates, I will take the the Chips or Crisp- call them what you choose.
Those awful yellow "Cheese" snacks? Let me have them~ salt and all!

I do love Asian style dishes, with the sweet/salty/sour tastes, and I tell myself the vegetables are extremely healthy! And the delicate Seafoods, which go so well with the wonderful salty, soupy, dishes, of Asian influenced Cuisine.

I love noodles, and find them to be Comfort Food Central

, to me. I adore Rice Noodles especially. But then, I also love just plain Rice!

I also have a love of Macaroni Cheese, a hangover from my childhood, when I loved my Grandmother's Mac Cheese more than any other food. And next day, sliced cold, it was devine!!

I still love Pasta, and regard it as a Comfort Food.

Do you have a Favourite Comfort Food?

Neil Diamond, Porcupine Pie. I know, I have posted this before, but I still love this version.

Treats

2010-10-21T11:50:00.000+11:00

The evening comes tinged with pink edges, a seeming promise of a fine, and perhaps, beautiful day tomorrow.

A treat from over the sea. This lovely little hanging, bringing sweet sentiments and the love of friendship. So very sweet. Thankyou Jane, of Marigold Jam. Do check out this blog, she writes the most delightful posts.

Another free treat for me, was an email message from another Blog friend. It is amazing how much better support can make one feel, even if it comes from cyber space, and caring friends unmet, in the flesh.
Thankyou Mary, you are a treasure.

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

This, for me, was a treat to make. I have been trying to summon the Mojo to help me create this promised item, for my Dear Daughter J.
Yesterday the Mojo came home, and I made the complete item! I was so happy, and so is my daughter. It looks a little cream in the pic, but is actually Ivory. The lace is an old treasure I had kept and we found the perfect ribbon, along with some lovely velvet ribbon, also among my treasures.

I really did enjoy feeling like sewing again!

We have a very nice neighbour, who recently lost his 'Bride' of many years. He is now 80 years old, and is a remarkable man. He still rises every morning at 4am to go to train his horses. He says he doesn't know what he would do with himself, if he didnt still train the horses. He told he he takes flowers to the Bride's grave to celebrate her birthdays.
I had asked if he could remove a Privet, which had grown wild among his Bride's lovely Azaleas. Apart from being ugly, the Privet gives me severe hayfever.
As good as his word, he got his Grandson to remove the Privet yesterday, after having borrowed a saw from Gom. The Bride once told me that her Groom would not know one end of a hammer from the other!

That may be true, but he sure can train some winninging horses!

Blogger is infuriating me beyond endurance this morning.
I began this post last evening, and found it impossible to upload photos, due to 'maintenance'.

This morning, I had a little better luck, but simply can not upload 2 more photos I had hoped to add.

Gom is out in the kitchen, doing unthinkable things to the bench and other assorted items. I am trying so hard to remain in here, away from it all. I figure what I don't see, won't hurt me!

I am off out this afternoon, hopefully for some retail therapy, with my Dear Daughter. She is shopping for a bra. Never an easy task, and the last shop she tried, (which boasted it can fit any figure,) ridiculously told her they don't stock her size, but she could buy an extension to make one fit! WTH?? She is a perfectly normal, average size?
I need some pretty, comfortable, sandals, since I can no longer wear heels and so wish us both luck!

Gomez, How We Operate.

Not Keeping the Balls in the Air.

2010-10-18T22:48:00.000+11:00

So many missed opportunities for pictures! So many milestones to mark!
It seems I have missed most of them.

Where have I been? Where has my wandering mind been?

This is SG, Small Grandson, 'Almost Eight', which is a pretty special Birthday, after all. He came to share it with us, and he was so excited by his gifts and the magnificent Chocolate Cake his father made!!

Shockingly, I dont have the 'Now I Am Eight!' pics.

Nor do I have the wonderful Choccy Cake, made by Dad! pics.

Where was the camera? What was I thinking?

I was off on Planet Numb, I suspect, wandering about, bewildered, and lost.

I have no idea where most of this month has gone.

If anyone finds my Sewing Mojo, please send it back to me, as I really need it now, to complete something I promised to have made, before November.

I received a lovely little hanging, of which I don't have photos to show. ~~Hangs head in shame.~~ I promise I will have them for the next post.

My juggling all seems in vain, & the balls all fall at my feet.

However, I am not resisting the temptation to say, "What the hell?", look at the balls lying there, & just walking away.

After all, if they need to be in the air, I am sure someone will throw them up. Or not.

Morty has been a true CAT. He refuses to remain an indoor cat, and I swear he gives us 'the Finger' now & then!
He is a rude, arrogant cat. He comes running indoors to yowl and talk, only to run off again, when I try to answer his queries, and set his mind at rest.

He adopted a shabby cardboard box his choice of 'slumber slot' in the evening, beside my chair.

Well, he has lost it now. He caught a poor little bird, and sneaked it into the house.
The first we knew of it, was some thumping, and leaping noises. When I went to investigate, I found the poor little critter, cowering in a corner of a bedroom. I rescued the little creature, and took it to the local Vet. I hope it will recover. It did not seem mortally wounded, though it was missing a few feathers.

I used Morty's Slumber Box, to transport the hapless dove. Morty is getting another, large, bell for his collar!

My little dog Honey is quite jealous and disliking of Morty. However, most mornings, I find Honey on one side of my legs, on the bed, and Morty, on the other side.
It seems a truce is reached in the night.

Would I could reach such harmony in my days.

Janis Ian, In the Winter.

Not Waving...Drowning.

2010-09-30T21:28:00.000+10:00

This was a visit to the Sydney Aquarium, with my son, on the 28th of Sept, which was the Anniversary of Gom & I taking possession of our current house.
It was a hot day, the year we moved in, and it was a hot day, this year also.

We had forgotten it was School Holidays, and when we first arrived to attempt to visit the Aquarium, it was packed with excited children, in snaking long queues!

We decided to beat a hasty retreat, and have some lunch instead.

It had been about 6 years since I had visited the Casino, so we decided to walk ~~in my case, hobble~~ over the Bridge at Darling Harbour, to the 'other side' to see about lunching in the Casino.

Huge mistake! The shabby seedy 'joint' is being renovated. Finding entry was almost impossible. We encountered some Asian Tourists, who were also having difficulty finding how to get into the place.

Eventually we gained entry to a floor, which, it appeared had a Private Gaming Only area- so we ignored that!- as well as a Gaming Room.

We met a huge Mountain of a Man, brown of skin, huge of smile, and politeness itself. Mr Obliging and Extremely Pleasant Brown Mountain Man, informed us that Son ~ if we wished to proceed into the Gaming Room ~ would need to check his backpack into the downstairs front desk, ~~what desk?, what downstairs?,~~ the only downstairs we had seen was pavement at the foot of arduous stairs!

Stairs for me, are very difficult to negotiate.

However Mr O & E P Brown Mountain Man, gave us complicated directions on how to reach this area, and thence. how to proceed to the Restaurant area.

We proceeded ~limped, in my case~ to some lifts, where we once again encountered the bewildered Asian Tourists, who agreed with us, they did not really know where they were going either. Eventually, after trekking through what seemed miles through the cold and ugly car park, we found the lifts that would supposedly take us to the Desk Area, then we could apparently be allowed access to the Restaurant Area.

After standing politely in a stuffy small area waiting for one of the 3 lifts to arrive, we were dismayed to find a crowded lift, full of hostile faces, daring us to enter. We stepped back, only to be almost flattened by extremely rude ...shall we say, tourists, shoving us out of the way, and barging into the already full lifts.

It seems some countries are so used to this type of behaviour it was accepted! We stood, astonished, as 3 more slow lifts came and went, with behaviour quite the same as before. There seemed a never ending stream of rude, pushing, sweating ignorance, just waiting to outrush us into the already groaning lifts.

We decided lunch was not worth that, so we headed off back, to take the hideous trip back to Mr O E & P B M M, who decided to 'illegally' let us through the Gaming Room, with Son's Backpack still attached.

After threading our way through the sad, tired & disgusting looking Gaming Room, we reached Mr Blond Mountain Man, who was equally O E & P. He told us he should not let us into the Restaurant area, but seeing we were there already, he would.

After reading the Price list, and deciding we did not really want to purchase the Restaurant, or even Buy Shares in the Silverware, we beat a hasty Retreat. Mr Blond MM was quite understanding, and allowed us to retreat the way we had come- in spite of the illegality of it all.

We once again encountered Mr O E & P B M M, who cheerily bade us a goodbye, and fond wish for us to Enjoy Our Day.

The Casino seemed a very sad, shabby grubby and seedy place. I felt it an ugly blot on the lovely face of Darling Harbour. Just my impression.

After limping ever more slowly and painfully back across the Harbour, we found a place to dine, which did not include prices for Permanant Residence or Lease, or Puchase of Shares in the Business, or indeed the Silverware. It did however have seagull access, and the screams of a small girl, whose meat was stolen by a cheeky seagull, who ripped the food almost from her mouth, bore testament to the fact that it was a somewhat 'risky' place to dine.

I was rather shocked to see ashtrays on the tables, and could scarcely believe they could allow smoking in a place for dining, even though it is, 'outdoors'.

The food was very nice, which, after our fruitless trek to the Casino, was most welcome. We had worked up quite hearty appetites, with all the frustrations and tramping, and hobbling in search of sustenance.

We were glad we had waited to try to gain entry to the Aquarium. The queues were almost nil, and we did get in quite quickly. However the visit was rather disappointing for many reasons, not least being the crowdedness- rudeness again with pushing tourists, obviously used to such rude behaviour.

Many of the viewing windows of the more interesting sealife were far too small for crowds, and it was, overall, not a very pleasant experience.

The shabbiness was disappointing too. One would expect better, for our wonderful Darling Harbour, and the fact is is quite the Tourist 'attraction'.

We both agreed later, that our Local Aquarium Shop is much more pleasant, and a lot of the displays are much superior~ plus it is free, and one can spend as long as one likes studying the wonderful displays.

Overall it was a nice day away from my 'Real Life' which is increasingly sad and I am struggling to maintain some balance.

America, Don't Cross the River

Finding the Sparkle

2010-09-17T23:16:00.000+10:00

As we are now into Spring, it is that time of year when the cold still bites and the Summer seems to be teasingly evasive, and elusive.
We have flashes of warm balmy days, when Summer seems to be almost upon us, caressing us with sun, and light zephyrs of harmless, mild air.
We are lulled into false feelings of warmth, and the bite of further cold air comes as a shock, to remind us that the Seasons are fickle, with Spring perhaps the most fickle of all.

The almost irredescant greens, of the new bursting leaves on the deciduous trees, remind us that Summer will soon arrive.

The Jacarandas are curious, as their leaves turn yellow, and begin to fall, at this time of year, in seeming contradiction to the seasons. They are making way for the glorious display of blossom in the beginning of Summer, which here, in Oz, is in reality, November.

We do seem to be blessed with many purple/blue flowers at the start of Summer.

A rain sprinkled Agapanthus, from another Spring.

No raindrops this time.

Since our Jacaranda ~~almost never~~ rarely flowers, I don't have any pictures of the blossom.

I do, however have pics of our wonderful Orange Clivea.

The best ones grow clustered about the trunk of our Maple tree. They slumber peacefully during the Summer months, resting, and preparing for their magnificent bursts of colour during the early Spring.

We have several clumps of Clivea, but the best ones grow close to the trunk of our Maple, and the fallen leaves of the Maple, which cover them with the shed leaves of the Autumn fall. They keep them snug and warm under the blanket of red and brown leaves.

When we first redesigned our garden bank, I divided some of the Clivea clumps, and transplanted them a little further away from the trunk of the Maple.

They were slow to flower, and seemed to sulk a little, though they did still receive the blanket of comforting leaves, that the Maple provided.

They produce lovely red berries, which are quite beautiful in their own right. They glow, a scarlet red, and I have no idea if they are fertile or not.

At present we have some very happy succulents, which are in a neglected pot. They are flowering prolifically, and are quite lovely upon close inspection.
My favourite is the fern which has regenerated from the log banks of the garden. I know they don't flower, but I have a very soft spot for ferns.

The log wall which encloses the embankment is beginning to looks quite aged. It seems so recent since we redid this garden, but I guess time passes very quickly. It is, in fact, over 7 years since it was done, so it is little wonder that age has appeared.

Our back yard had become heavy with perfume, from the neighbour Jasmine, which is heavlily flowering. We also have a Port Wine Magnolia, which is flowering and perfuming the air, along with another shrub with a small white flower, which I have forgotten the name of, but the perfume is very sweet.

They do "Sparkle".
However, I fear I have developed an allergy to something, since I seem to be sneezing rather a lot!
Even the dogs, and the cat, are snorting and sniffing!

Leo Sayer, Orchard Road.

Unexpected Endings

2010-09-11T23:20:00.000+10:00

We have watched, with some sadness the demolition of a Hotel we once owned.
The demolition is due to the Christchurch Earthquake.

It can be viewed here, if you should wish to see it's demise;
http://msn.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/video.cfm?c_id=1&gal_gid=113826&gallery_id=113832

We watched as our former bedrooms, and living space was demolished.
I never really enjoyed living in this old Hotel, but I felt a sadness to see it's destruction, after all this time.
There were a lot of amusing stories connected to this Hotel, and some of them were ours.
There were a lot of sad storied connected to this Hotel, and a few of them were our, though most, were not.

A lot of our former friends and acquaintances from our time there, are now dead.
It seems strange to realise some of them were younger than we are now, when they passed away.

The Hotel had a different name, when we owned it. I am sure the change of name did not change the fundamental personality of the Hotel. It was a Country Hotel, in a village which was close to an Agricultural College.

A lot of wealthy farmers sent their offspring to attend this College for a year or so, hoping they would gain some maturity, before they might assume some responsibility on the Family Farm.
There were also overseas students, often of mature age, who were sent to the College to learn skills to take home to their native countriies.

Many acts of seeming idiocy were enacted by the students of this College. Reason would question the thinking behind much of this destructive and vandalistic behaviour. One would almost question the sanity of these students, whose level of intelligence should have been above such acts of sheer lunacy.

I have always hoped that the students who stole, from our kitchen fridge, a Roast Leg of Lamb, complete with Oven Pan, and also stole a whole Roll of Dog Meat, ate the Dog Meat, under cover of darkness and lived to suffer the pain, and indigestion such "offal" food would cause!

As to the students who stole a whole toilet,~ ie, cistern plus pan, ~I hope they suffered from lack of 'facilities' in later life, and paid the price of being 'caught short'! I hope it scarred one of the theives as they manoevered it out of the small toilet window. Sadly, we never found any traces of blood on the window, or the garden walls. We always wonderd if some local Cow Cocky found the pan in one of his paddocks, but we never did find out where it ended.

This was one of the most played songs on the Jukebox in that Hotel.
The Ballad of Lucy Jordan, Marianne Faithfull.

The Lighter Side

2010-09-07T17:21:00.001+10:00

There are times of hilarity and much laughter.

Look into my eyes.........

I stole this owl off a site of Interesting Animal pictures. Since I am an Owl freak, it really appealed to me.

One of the stories that has amused me, is a true story, shared by one of the persons involved.
I will retell the story, but I will change the names to 'protect the innocent' as they say.

Once upon a time there was a young Doctor I shall call Dr Jodhpurs, who met and married young Doctor Spatula.
They eventually had 5 children, who of course, took, their father's name of Jodhpurs. They grew to adulthood in the same district as their parents had a general medical practice. Over the course of the growing years the family acquired two dogs. These dogs were much loved members of the family. Many interesting stories were told about these dogs, and the children of the family, of course.

The eldest dog, Thor was a male, and though he was not 'entire', he was still a male male. A younger female, Ritzy was brought into the family, and though she did not remain 'entire' either, Thor always Lorded it over her, and took it upon himself to be her guardian.

The years passed and the eldest daughter, Ms Jodhpurs was to be married. By this time, all the younger Jodhpurs had left the family nest and flown off to have careers of their own. They regularly came home for visits and always greeted the family dogs with love and affection, and of course, were in turn greeted with love and much excitement by the dogs.

On the eve of the Eldest Ms Jodhpurs' wedding, all the younger Jodhpurs siblings gathered at their parents house. The about-to-be-married Miss J also wished to spend her last single night at her childhood home.

As lots of visitors would be calling it was decided to have the family dogs groomed so they would look their best. Ritzy was bathed and dried first, and as he always did, Thor got very anxious, and overexcited until Ritzy was safely back indoors. Then it was his turn to be bathed.
Upon returning Thor indoors, the Dog Man declared he thought Thor might not be well. He seemed tired and just wanted to lie down.

Dog Man departed, and Thor continued to lie panting. Youngest Ms Jodhpurs cradled Thor. Dr Jodhpurs Junior listened to his heart with his stethoscope. Dr Jodhpurs Senior listened to his heart with his stethoscope.
It was decided to call the Vet.
However, as they were dialling the number Youngest Ms J announced that it was too late, as Thor had passed away in her arms.

It seemed terribly sad, on the eve of the happy day for the Eldest Ms J. The younger J's decided that perhaps he had times his passing with the gathering of the entire family, as they were rarely all together in the family home.

A little time passed, and one day Dr Jodhpurs Senior was visiting a patient at her house. He met Dog Man, who had arrived to groom the elderly patient's little dog.

Dog Man had not been told of Thor's passing, so he was unaware that Thor had died. When Dr J told his wife Dr Spatula of the meeting, she enquired if he had told Dog Man of Thor's passing.

Dr Jodhpurs replied "No, I didn't tell him, but I wrote 'Dog Killer' on his van as I left!"

He didn't write any such thing, of course, but the thought that he told the story made us laugh uproariously.

As a Footnote, Thor has a nice grave, with Spring bulbs on top. Miss Ritzy was expected to mourn his passing, but as a lot of 'widows' seem to discover, she has decided it is lovely having the bed all to herself, and all of the house as well!!

Here is another stolen picture, of Stella, the little Lioness. Look at those eyelashes!! Who knew Lions had such long ones?

This lovely rainbow over our "Mountain" ~~~which is a small hill to most New Zealnders, but a mountain to the Oz~~~was taken by Mrs NN.
Our hearts are with her and Mr NN today.

Has anyone got a solution to ridding Polar Fleece of pet hair?
It is such a problem with us, our son tells us we are in danger of becoming known in the Village as the Yak Family, because I cannot seem to get the pet hairs out of our warm fleecy jackets and tops.

It is something I am squirmingly concsious of, and often wonder if people secretly call us the Hair Couple ~or Yaks, not that our son mentioned Yaks! We appear to bristle constantly, and, I suspect, are questionable for wearing hair shirts!
Our dogs are not supposed to shed, but of course all dogs shed a certain amount, and clipping leaves plenty of loose hair about.
Getting a cat was not a great idea for the hair problem, either!
I would welcome any tips!!

This is a pic that Mrs NN took and shared with me, of gorgeous blossom on a tree we both admire. My heart sings at the wonder of spring every year.

The heart wrenching news from Christchurch, which is where we once lived, and which is Gom's native City, has saddened us. I grew to love Christchurch when I lived there. It has a unique beauty, so different from where I was born and grew up. An earthquake is frightening at any time, and though we felt a few in our time living there, none were as large as this one.
We managed to contact friends and rellies and are happy to know all is well with them, in spite of some damages to homes.

We are a very irreverant family, and have no religion. Most of my friends know this, and it is not an issue.

Son B is a tonic to my sad heart, and he has brought new phrases to my life, for when times get tough.
Some examples~ "The Hand of Gom"- for items that have mysteriously changed or vanished.
"Gone to Gom" -for plants that are no longer.
"Gom works in mysterious ways." -for the general everyday oddities.
"The Wrath of Gom" -for the occasional irrational outbursts of rage.

We returned home from an outing yesterday, to find the lawn had been mowed- Gom strikes back!
It was nice to know he felt well enough, I guess, and we carefully kept a no comment.

**************
Of course, no post from me would be complete really, without a GOW rant!

I abhor the current usage of the word "Carnage" in relation to earthquakes, floods, car accidents, fires, and on and on, where no person or carnal being actually lost their life, or suffered any injury.
Do they not teach young people - namely 'Reporters' -these days the meaning of the word 'carnal' and therefore, 'carnage'???
I feel a 'Gorilla moment' coming on, the instant I see that word misused! GGRRRRR!!!.

End of Rant.
*************************
Along with all the other music I love, I do love Ragtime! This featured in the movie The Sting.

Scott Joplin, The Entertainer.

Can you hear the sound of fingernails on the blackboard?

2010-09-01T18:20:00.000+10:00

I suppose, if you cannot hear that sound, or don't care to, you could be too young to remember blackboards, or just don't wish to go there.

That particular fingernail sound is what my lilfe is like, a great deal of the time recently.

Combined with the Neighbour Dog which never stopped barking for 6 days, it was positively insanity making!
Son B has had a word to the Neighbour tennant, who was the only person home, and since she is a student, and is currently studying, he got the impression she was more than happy to pass along the message. It seems to have had a positive effect, since Neighbour Dog has since been very much quieter. We are not sure how this has been achieved, but the relief is beyond belief.

Here is Morty, in a heart of early morning sunlight, reflected around him, on his little perch in the Grevillea.

The 'perch' in the shrub, was put on a post, to feed the Lorikeets, when we had an old wooden pergola.

Morty just thinks it was put there for his pleasure. He makes me laugh, because he sits and watches the little Nectar sipping birds, but he can't possibly catch any, because the Grevillea twigs are far too slender, and he would just crash to the garden below.

I love the sunlight on his whiskers.

Here is my lovely lunch guest I took our for a leisurely lunch and Nanna/Granddaughter time. We both enjoyed it, and it cheered me to spend the time chatting and laughing as we enjoyed our long lunch.

Her Grandfather was not well enough to come too, so she called in to visit him after we had returned, and he seemed pleased to see the girl of his heart.

I made a token gesture to the coming of Spring. Son B & I had reminisced about when our children were young, how much they had enjoyed me taking them on visits and tours of local Nurseries in Chrishchurch.
Since we lived in an inner city Hotel, we had no garden, so we would buy pot plants and had a wonderful display along our sunny Balcony. They would choose plants for themselves, and would look after them quite well. It sparked an interest in plants which has never left them, and so, B and I, spent a lovely day, out and about at our local Nurseries. Gom was never keen on plants, or visits to the Nurseries, (as you all know), so he was content to remain at home, basking in the sun.

This was the result of my plantings and I was pleased with the splash of colour.

However, Morty got among the pots, and leapt onto one, which tipped it over and broke the terracotta pot, and scattered the polyanthus and the little bulbs all over the path. You can imagine the grumbles that brought from me! Is there some Cosmic Conspiracy that has decreed I shall not have a garden??
Between Gom and Morty, I am beginning to believe it must be so.

This pic is post Morty, after I replanted the Poly, and bulbs in a plastic ugly old pot, which is all I had left.

The photos are not very clear, and the Pansies are much prettier than they appear, and seem to be settling in well... as long as no further mishaps upset things!
I also bought a Chilli plant, hoping it will live for B to use in his salads.

I had a lovely surprise visit from SG too, to give me this gift. It is a Teatowel and is covered in self portraits of all the children in his school, from Kindy to year 3.

I was thrilled with it, and think it is a lovely momento of his school days. Top Marks to the clever person who thought of this idea, it is just wonderful.

Of course SG is in this pic. We have had a little giggle at some of the self images, they are so amusing!

A real highlight of last week, was a visit from New Zealand Friends. BFJ and her husband, called up to see us for the day. Their visit was better than all the tonic in the world, and we were just sad that they could not stay with us this time around.
It is very true that there is nothing quite like old friends and we had a lot of laughs in the short time we had together.
Everything falls into a better perspective, when it is shared with friends. Even Gom had a lovely day, and seemed to be very much brighter for spending time with our loved friends.

Sadly, I forgot to take pictures. Over the years we have often missed the photo opportunities with these great friends- too excited I guess. Too busy trying to fill in the gaps.

For old times sake
Connie Francis, Everybody's Somebody's Fool.

Positive, in the face of opposition..

2010-08-19T22:20:00.000+10:00

It can be surprisingly difficult to remain positive.

One would expect to be greeted with help unlimited, if one should cry out for help.
Just to say, my lovely GP seemed almost worse off than I felt, is rather an understatement.

Who would you vote for, if given the choice. None of the current choices, I can say!!

I promised myself some positives, so here goes.

A soft pnk cloud behind a palm frond, would have been one of my dreams.. way back when....

I still get a minor thrill to realise this is the real life view from my balcony. It often does resemble Paradise.

This is a menace approaching. I was slightly amused at the sight of this gathering storm cloud. I rather expected it would evaporate and amount to nothing. Wrong!!

We had a massive downpour, and it turned bitterly cold.

So, the positive, is this funny,, furry pic of Morty, sitting in a cardboard box, beside my seat, in the lounge.

I suspect he thinks he is invisible. He is so gorgeous, but also, very hostile if the mood
takes his fancy! I bear the bleeding scars of his 'love bites'!!

Sheryl Crow. Every Day is a Winding Road

A New Perspective.

2010-08-18T21:18:00.000+10:00

I am trying to find one positive to add here, each day.

My positives are less than they were, as some of you know.

I am trying to counterbalance the weight.

So, my first attempt seems to be thwarted by the sodding picture down load feature! WTH??? Yesterday it was fine???

Ok, now my limited brain has allowed for the altered pic upload feature, that seems to be Blogger's latest challenge.

These are the colours of Paua Shell. I love the rainbow hues, and find them attractive in all manner of combinations. They are, truly, the colours of the Universe...the rainbows... the bubbles of childhood... life's free treats!.

When we were young, we stayed at Beach Baches, which in New Zealand, lots of people owned, or had access to use, for weekends spent at beaches, beside the sea. A Bach was sometimes a primitive dwelling constructed from old tram carriages, Quonset huts and disused army huts. Disused bus shells were not unusual.
Often these dwellings were constructed from several of these, and were divided into the living/sleeping quarters and the cooking/eating quarters.

Cigarette smoking was the fashion of the day, and, of course, this necessitated ashtrays. These ashtrays were often in the form of polished Paua Shells, which were decorative, very long lived, and easily cleaned.

I regret that we have no Paua shell ashtrays from that era.
I do not regret having seen them, and enjoyed theirs wonderful colours

Whenever I see a rainbow, I am reminded of the wonderful colours of the Paua Shell.

Johnny Mathis - who could ask for more... if you are of my vintage, of course!

Happy Birthday Gom.

2010-08-16T23:22:00.000+10:00

Gom is 74 today.
We had a Roast Pork with the usual suspects.
I think he had a nice day, though he felt unwell for much of the early part.

However, he did enjoy his dinner, and thankfully, we did not sing to him! Our voices have little to commend these days, and were never particularly melodious.

This is around when it all began, in November 1964.

A plump Meggie, & a jolly Gom, who was HUS (Highly Unsuitable Suitor) back in the day.

This was our wedding day, in 1966. By this time, there was a thin Meggie.

This was with our Granddaughter and Daughter approximately 1993

At a family gathering around 1996

This was taken with our Grandson, Xmas 2003.

We dont have any recent pics together. My best attempts to get some seem to have failed.

Latest health reports are positive in most areas. However his feeling would almost seem to belie the blood results.

Dusty Springfield, Wishing & Hoping. HUS would play this on the jukebox.... remember those??
Back in those faraway days, they had jukebox players in booths, in the local Cafes. Dust was big in the Sixties in New Zealand.

The Fabric of Life

2010-07-30T23:44:00.000+10:00

A friend, who reads here, remarked that I had not posted, lately.

It is not exactly from lack of desire.

I find excellent- well,.. in my headspace- posts suggest themselves, when I am preoccupied with other, mundane activities, such as showering, or chopping vegetables for Laksa, or chicken for Curry. ~~My goodness, I do loath chopping chicken for dishes!~~ I suspect I should be a vegetarian, but I cannot deny my enjoyment of chicken dishes- mostly when they are prepared by someone other than myself.

And much as I adore small piglets, and even full grown pigs, I cannot deny, I do enjoy a nice roast of pork, or a nice piece of bacon.

Here is the arrogant Morty, declaring "We Seez things Differently". I feel he should be available for cuddles, but he feels he can dish out minor purrings, and smooches, as he sees fit!

He is convinced I am tricking him! He is sure there is someone, or something, hidden- by me!!

"I know you are joking!!"

"Oh well, if you won't tell me the secret, I will just pretend you are not there!"

Dear little Beau, the sweet, gorgeous, model, dog, of Mr & Mrs NN, has disgraced himself, when he got over excited with a bone, in the rain, in the garden!

"Aww, Mum! Dont take my pic, when I look so dishevelled!!"

Lastly, but not really Leastly, ~~OK I know there is no such word, but it is a sad predicament ,~~ our loved Leo is in disgrace.

It is true, his little 'habits' are not always the most polite. Since our Son has come to live with us, he has waged a war of sorts over our spoilt canine 'son'.

Leo is a very intelligent dog, as opposed to dear little Honey, who is the love of my life, but a little dim, about her role in the 'Obedient Dog Stakes'. She is small, cute, and slightly crippled, so we forgive her many things.

Leo on the other hand, is bright, intelligent, healthy, and very domineering, and very smart. He has been Top Dog, with Gom.
Our Son sees this as a very bad situation, so he is trying to change the balance of power.

It is causing me sleepless nights, and Gom is even more depressed over his life in general.

The Fabric of our lives is fraught with snags, and slubs, misplaced threads, and tears in the very cloth of it all.

Winter Thoughts.

2010-07-20T15:15:00.000+10:00

How the time flies, when you are not having fun! haha.

We ~~endured~~ celebrated our 44th Wedding Anniversary on 13th July. It was not wet, nor particularly cold. It was both, the day we actually got married.

It would have been my Beloved Mother's 90th Birthday on 17th July. I am glad she did not live so long, as I know she was ready to go, when she did. Her small body was worn out, and she was very tired.

Among her favourite flowers were Daphne, which always flowered on her birthday. I am lucky enough to have a shrub, and it is flowering now, with it's wonderful sweet, slightly citrusy, spicy, perfume filling the air. I cut some to bring indoors and always reminisce about Sweet Little Mary.

The garden is looking sad and cold at the moment, and it feels as if there will be more rain. We seem to have had quite a wet winter this year.

Gom is an increasing worry. A visit to our GP left me with a rather sour taste in my mind. I do not like to be dismissed with "Don't be so negative."

I am trying so desperately not to be negative about anything, but it is really hard, in the face of severe and prolonged depression in one's husband. Depression to which he would not admit, but finally is admitting.

It is hard to be positive in the face of extreme outbursts of rage and irrational thinking. Unkind remarks. Savage behaviour of a mental kind. Not all of this behaviour is due to his disease.

Our son is living with us for a spell, and he is a rock to me. His father's behaviour has shocked him, with it's extreme mood swings and seeming irrationality. He has been on the receiving end of some of the savagery, which of course, breaks my heart.

My sense of humour has seen me through some ugly and difficult times. I seem to find it hard to find the humour in much these days.

I have a problem of my own to deal with, which may be really minor, but an inconvenience, nonetheless. Investigations thus far are not exactly comforting, though they would not seem to indicate anything too dire-hopefully. I am a coward, so I am trying to ignore the next step of investigation, for the time being.

A visit to the Dentist revealed more unsettling news. Teeth are nothing but trouble from the moment we are born, it would seem. Why couldn't our gums have been sufficient to live by?? That thought makes me laugh... a whole lot of gummy people. We could have gummed our way through our lives!

I tried a new recipe, Eggplant Parmigiana. Sounded nice. Turned out crap. Never mind, I will eat the pieces. You wouldn't catch Gom eating any such thing as Eggplant, so I will have to eat it alone. Beloved Son B is making himself a Lentil Salad, which he loves, and is determined to eat for a few days to 'de-stress' his body.

We had Small Granson here for some days during the holidays. He was such fun, and he astounds us with the breadth of his knowledge and his reading skills are amazing. When he heard me inviting his sister to come for tea one night, he told me he wants to come too, bless him. He adores Morty & they have fun together playing with toys. He has not really known any cats, so he is very intrigued by Morty, and even though he has had a scratch or two, he is still delighted with him.

"If I close my eyes, she might go away with the camera!"

We took SG to visit a large Black Cockatoo, and there was also a large Macaw. The shop also had fish, and Axlotyls. Along with puppies and some rabbits, and lots of noisy small, and not so small parrots. I am kicking myself for forgetting to take any photographs. We will have to go back!

We have a new leather lounge suite, ~~not purchased from the Slimy One with Bling!~~ and it is proving very comfortable. Of course Morty and the dogs have been given dire warnings about NOT damaging ANY part of the suite.

It is nice to have good friends to call upon for some light relief. Thankyou H, for being there for meXX

"It's All In The Game". Phoebe Snow.

Such is Life..

2010-07-06T22:43:00.000+10:00

The pressure, the sadness, the worrisome news. The minor, (I hope) health scares.

The joyous news of a Grandson's wonderful School Report.
A visit from Family, with all members present. A rare treat.

A Beloved Son, coming to live with us, for a spell.

Wonderful Neighbours, sharing news and photographs. These gorgeous Maple Leaves, on their tree.
I missed the pics of ours.

Cooking something new, with great success, and much enjoyment.
The simple joy, of having someone who enjoys the same taste as myself.

A batch of impromptu scones~ which were, surprisingly, very nice! I can't remember the last time I attempted to bake scones!
Sorry, no pics, they were all gobbled up!

A fruit pie. Gom having two slices, so I know it is a winner!

Morty, a gorgeous boy. But a very odd-natured boy. One minute, purrs, smooches. The next, bites! scratches! A very vicious display of hostility!
Oh, my bleeding arms!

What mysteries lie in his past, to cause such violent turns in personality?!

Despair for various reasons.

A wonderful day of 'Respite'.
I watched as Gom departed, so full of happiness, eager aniticipation of seeing old friends.

I sat, with happy anticipation, a full day ahead, to please myself.
A respite for both of us!

Joy for myself. So different to Joys for Himself.

The ebb and flow of daily life.
Now, so different, to days past.

Gom has come to a type of Peace, at the presence of Morty.
Though he can be heard shouting "You little Sh!t" if he is displeased.
Luckily Morty does not understand swearing, and he just dances away, ignoring the shouted 'insults'.

Neil Diamond, Song Sung Blue.

Jumping On The Bandwagon.

2010-06-25T19:58:00.000+10:00

The Bandwagon. to which I refer, is "Facial Hair"!

It is really a given for Males, but it is an optional extra, to grow said hair.

For Females it can be a downright hideous embarrassment. Unless, of course, they can join some Circus in which they which might become a 'Bearded Lady'.

However, this is not the usual outcome of Post Menopausal Hair Growth. It is not enough to benefit a career in the Circus. Nor, is it slight enough to ignore, and hope no one will notice.
I have heard of women bleaching the increased hair, in the hopes it will never be noticed.

The trouble is, bleached hair has a tendency to glisten in the sunlight, or any other light directed in the direction of said hair.
No woman wants to be noted for a splendidly gleaming blond moustache, or beard.
Blond takes on a whole new meaning in that scenario.

I digress here, a little. My gripe is not with hapless women, who decide to let Nature take it's cruel course.

No. My gripe is with men, who 'stupidly' grow their whiskers to grubbily stain their chins, and chubby cheeks. They are to be seen in the media, often, proudly sporting this "Derro" look.

WTH???

I see it to be associated with men, who are either alcohol addicted, or drug addicted- ie, the 'Derro Look'!
~~Here in Oz, we all know, that Derro, refers to a lost, or drug addicted soul.~~ Some condition, which precludes them from properly shaving in the mornings, or evenings, or whenever they are required, for public appearance.
I see it as downright laziness, in the 'taking care of personal hygiene' vein.

I also see it as an inordinate vanity, as I understand this hideous, whiskered, and 'overgrown' look, takes an awful lot of time to perfect.

I suspect Don Johnston has a lot to answer for, in this ugly 'craze'. (But Hell, didn't he go out of vogue so long ago???' Along with white suits, and rolled-sleeve-suit jackets??)

I realise I am "Older" and my opinions dont count a jot, today. I still feel as though I can b!tch about what I find unattractive, and ugly!

I see it, on an evening Show Host. I am told he has grown the 'Stubble' to counteract the opinion that he has a 'Babyface'.
Fool!
He should be glad he looks so young!
In his older age, he can still possibly 'pass' for someone much younger.
I think, at present, he looks like someone who is imitating his old Grandfather, or Great Uncle.

I feel like sending him a message, saying "Go and wash your face!! And have a bloody good close shave, while you are there!"

Goodness knows, it is YOUTH that seem so be so worshipped these days.

I should add here, in defence of bearded folks, of which my Beloved Brother is one, there are some people who seem destined to suit beards.

BB was nagged constantly by our Mother to shave off his beard of some 30 odd years.
When he did, she was shocked beyond belief, and wished she had not nagged, so consistently, for all those years. He became unrecognisable, &, she declared, looke like her youngest brother.

An aging Aunt told him he should have known his beard had become an "Institution" by the time he was over 50, and he was to grow it back ASAP!
He did, and has no intention of shaving it anytime soon.

My two sons, have had various facial hair configurations, over the years, but at present are both clean shaven.

I would never try to dictate or even suggest, what they should do with their very personal whiskers.
I do, however, feel, I can express an opinion on Public Figures.

Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes.

Lost Opportunities.

2010-06-18T22:53:00.000+10:00

I never seem to have my camera with me, when I see wonderful photo opportunities, these days.

I saw a beautiful, lemony, buttery, coloured leaf, just begging to be picked up, or at least photographed, but I was wrestling with dogs, so could not stop to seize the chance~ or the leaf!

I have learnt, as time passes me by, the need to grab these chances, and run with them, because they never come around twice.

Of course these images are old ones, captured in other times.They still bring me a measure of pleasure.

I am rather a hoarder, so I still have the images on the computer, in my collection of :Oldies, but Goodies".

The dogs were due their annual 'shots'. So today was the day, and off we went. Of course they both knew exactly where they were going, so they were nervous, and sort of excited.

Honey was really very good, once we got to the Vet's. Leo disgraced himself vociferously, barking at a small and rather innocent looking, small, and baldly clipped dog.

In the ten years we have been attending the same Vet, I have watched both the male Vets go from coloured hair, to now, completely white. I guess, it is a stressful occupation.

They both got a clean bill of health, and Honey was declared to be in excellent condition for her age.

Leo was surprisingly good for the Vet. That is why we choose this particular Vet. He seems to have a special way about him, with our dogs. The discolouration of the moosh is just 'one of those things'. No explanation, or particular reason. He is healthy, his teeth are fine, and his coat is 'Lovely'.

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

I have been trying to catch up on my blog reading, which has slipped a little behind lately.

Below, is one of my Meat Pies.

I read my American friends' mention of pies, and know, the Pies to which they refer, are usually a far cry from the Pies to which we refer, Down Under.

Here, in Oz or indeed NZ, 'A Pie', almost always means a "Meat Pie", usually smothered with Tomato Sauce. They are a particularly 'Sporting' food item, being the food of choice for Footy watching males, and often, females.

The Meat is usually steak or minced beef, and the casing is pastry, usually a shortcrust base, with a flaky pastry top. With lashings of thick Tomato Sauce.

None of these Sissy, Sweet Pies for Footy Fans! None of your girly biscuit-crumb crust, or cream filling.

No! The Pies of choice are hot, meaty and no doubt, artery clogging!

We are told, they may contain as little as 15% of actual MEAT. However I prefer not to go there. Not that I would ever eat a 'Meat Pie', I had not made myself. And, it would never be Beef!

They are often seen decorating the front of Footy Fans Boofy chests! They might also be seen ~shall we say, making a 'Second Appearance'.

To use an Assie expression, as a 'Technicolour Yawn'.

However, this is usually after copious quantities of beer also, have been consumed, though not always.

We do have other pie varieties here. Apple Pie is not the Institution it is in America. However, it is quite popular. Also Lemon Meringue Pie is a favourite, as are Custard Pies.

As a child my favourite was Blackberry Pie.

I make Apple Pies and Fruit Pies for Gom. He seems to enjoy them, which is just as well, because I do not have a sweet tooth, and he has to eat them all by himself.

Roy Orbison, California Blue.