Nothing prepares us for our 'Real Lives'.

When I was young, I would vaguely think of my future life, or my Real Life, I suppose. The teenage years seemed somewhat vague, and largely unrelated to what Real Life would be, later on in my life.


I did not have a clear picture of what the Real Life would entail.
I think my actual Real Life was so different to anything I would, or could, have imagined, much of it has been a huge surprise.

I was going to be a Nurse, and nothing disuaded me. Until I went Nursing. Several things changed my mind. Not least the Geriatric Ward. I was sorry for the old folks, but I think it takes a special type of person to nurse the Elderly, who may have lost, or be losing, their marbles. On the other end of that scale, if I could have just been an Obstetrics Nurse, I would have been deliriously happy. It was Not to Be, back in the day.

A new path, was not so much chosen, as happened. The great education of Life began. An Education I frequently protested, but Life had other ideas, and little old me, did not really matter. You know the scenario, Mind Over Matter. Life did not mind, and I did not matter!

My experiences with Mothers of the current boyfriends, certainly never prepared me for the eventual Mother in Hell Law I ended up having, I might have been tempted to run a mile from Gom, & everything to do with him, and his family, had I been lucky enough to have been gifted with second sight.

It does seem curious to me, that every mother of the beau of the day, as far as possible, liked me, and I, invariably, liked them right back. Alright, there were several I did not get to meet, being as they lived in other countries. However all the ones I met, and knew, were very nice friendly mothers, who seemed to regard me as an acceptable future DIL. Or friend at least.

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Just for a momentary change of pace, do you think this might be a hand... or a foot...??

The Spirit of the Tree, begging for mercy? Begging to get out?
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Easter weekend brought many (un)pleasant memories of my MIL. Though she is gone now, and I should be able to move on, I am constantly reminded of her, in little gestures and mannerisms of Gom.
I know it is unfair of me to resent these unconscious little things. However, I need to unload this cr^p, or it will eat me up.
I know it is not Gom's fault he reminds me of his mother. (Probably the happiest period of our marriage was when she overstepped the boundaries completely, and I banned her from my home, for about 5 years. I had several years of peace and harmony.) Had she been another person, I may have felt a rush of affection, on seeing reminders. The ugly truth is, I feel an irritated anger, & feel I possibly need counselling to deal with such thoughts. Or a large Voodoo Doll?? haha.
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Here is a photo of the Apron in Action! This young man loves to cook, and he is giving the apron a good workout.

The resultant stew, cooked in the slow cooker was declared a delicious success!

Here 'we' ( his lovely mother & I) are at the Blowhole. I was glad to see my blue top did not get splattered with food, but if you look closely, there appears to be some small animal attached to my bottom lip!

A friendly stranger offered to take our pic, so L offered her camera. People are generally friendly and very obliging on trips like this.

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Today's little adventure was not a pleasant experience for me. 

Yes, I know, here I go, flitting off the track again.  

I had to go for a Stress test  for my heart, having had a small 'episode', as they seem to be now known, about 8 weeks ago.    

Finally, after several cancellations- not mine- today was the day. It was hot, humid & very sticky. Ugly weather for anything...just breathing felt stressful!

Off goes Meggie, in her most loose, comfortable, cool!!,  clothes    

On arrival, I walked the 2.5 k to the center. OK I exaggerate, but it was the length of the block, almost!

I fervently hoped there was aircon, as I cannot stand exercise of any vigourous nature, nor can I breath in humid weather. 

ShockNo 1. I was required to strip to the waist- well shirt off, at least. This caused me some embarrassment, since I wore my most clapped & worn out bra- well they advised wearing comfortable clothing! Who could wear a new tidy bra?? They hurt like H#ll don't they??

So here I am, after being led out through an open Breezeway, to the now converted Double Garage Space which is to be the Stress Testing Zone. WHA???

I am sandpapered, vigourously, in various spots,  then have some several studs fitted to my person, which will be used to attach various monitor wires to be hooked up to machines. 

So here I stand in my partially naked state, waiting to meet the Doctor. He Introduces himself, trying not to look  too keenly at my partially undressed state. I would not want to gaze upon it either! 

I am instructed to lie on a bed for my 'resting heart rate' to be recorded. I am then further hooked up to wires, & studs, and told to mount the walking machine.

I might venture to say here, my heart is filled with dread. Such devices strike a primeval loathing within my being, & I immediately panic.

My blood pressure is taken. It is abnormally low, for me. The fear factor, I guarantee!!

Then they turn the walking torture  machine on. My legs resist the urge to fly out from under my body, backwards! I am instructed to take long slow strides. WTF, who can take slow strides on this hideous contraption?? I eventually 'Get the Stride' they tell me. 

Then as I struggle to breath, they, being the nurse and the Doctor, tell me they are stepping the speed and gradient up. 

I sweat like some navvy, and I gasp for breath, telling them, I cannot stand this heat, so they obligingly turn on a PEDESTAL FAN??? WTF?? What ever happened to aircon?? 

Finally the sweat on the handle bars begins to drip, I am so miserable I call for a halt! After all, I can barely breath, & I feel bloody minded, & hostile. 

Meantime blood pressure has been taken several times, and it is higher higher. 

I am released from torture.

I am led to a chair, where I gasp & heave.

Then I am told, "Well we didn't manage to get your heart rate up, so the Cardiologist may want more tests"

Over my dead body! I will not be going back for more, & would rather be dead~!

If it is heart-rate increase they want to measure, just come around here when I am trying to find previously available objects. GRRRR.

I know the signs are, Gom might well precede me. Some small signals tell me this may not be so.

He is on a diet in preparation for his big tests, so we are hoping we will get some answers to some of his problems.

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Our Easter was filled with Joy. We had family, and friends, and we enjoyed our company.

I had a call from a friend, Overseas, who would love to come to stay, so we look forward to that.

We also look forward to Overseas friends who are currently in OZ who may come to stay too.

Our Daylight Saving has ceased- for once it was the same weekend as NZ. I find I am ready for the sleep-in.

I don't know if this will work. I may have to start just suggesting music again.

This, if it posts, I love!

Jean Michel Jarre.

Genius.

                                                                                                              

The Aging Question

No matter how young we feel, or really are, chronologically, we come to the point where we begin to think about our age, & how we will age, should we live for a 'long time'.

My Daughter J, works in the field of Aged Care. She loves her work, & has a real empathy for elderly people, who all seem to love her. She has the gift of relating to them all, even the ones who are suffering from dementia or Alzhiemers seem to respond to her cheerful disposition. She has a favourite who is 99 years old.

That age seems somehow incomprehensible to me. The dear old woman is full of memories, & has her mind intact. Her body seems to be letting her down, a little more each day. My daughter has been told to prepare herself for her passing. Her Doctor has advised, her going will be rather swift, once it begins. My daughter, consequently, treasures ever day she can attend this lovely lady. She is slowing markedly, day by day.

Her daughter, who is not young herself, lives with her mother, & is there for company, night & day. My daughter is so fond of the daughter also, it is mutual, & often, when she is there for a respite visit, she stays to spend the time with my daughter. I wonder how they both will cope with the dear old soul's passing.

The daughter has no daughters of her own. She is so fond of my daughter, I know she will be doubly bereft, when her mother finally goes. It is not encouraged for the carers to continue friendships, with family, once the patient has passed away.It seems so cruel.

It is strange to think about how wonderful friendships can be formed with 'strangers'.

Or, how 'enemies' can be formed without our knowledge. I am always surprised to learn I am severely disliked by someone, who I previously had thought to be a 'friend', or at least, perhaps a 'neutral'.

The old adage about being able to choose your friends, but not your family is true, it would seem. I was shocked when I learned that my sister-in-law disliked me to an extent & depth, of which I had no conception! I had never been close to her, but had felt we got along ok. I have never quarelled with her, nor had 'words'. Not my style.

I know she has a very jealous disposition, & she has had a hard & bitter life. I genuinely never knew the extent of her hatred, & when I learnt of it, I was taken aback. Her own son was shocked. I was gratified to learn he was genuinely fond of me, & had 'defended' me, to his bitter mother.

My Gom is estranged from his sister now. They don't comminicate. I gather she was so nasty about me, my husband was shocked to his core. And, totally puzzled as to why. Thankfully, he has never told me the details. It is not our way, to dwell on such things.

I find I cannot sit in judgement on his sister. I have not walked in her shoes. She has a now-adult, elderly, daughter who is disabled. Our daughter could walk. Our daughter has lived a 'normal life'. Hers could not. I might be bitter & green, should I have walked her path.

Occasionally, I will visit a blog, & comment, to a wall it would seem. I recieve no feedback, or answering comments, & sometimes, read disparaging comments, which seem aimed directly at something I might have blogged about. I let it pass, telling myself it is imagined. But it seems to continue. Eventually, I decide that the person has an acitive dislike of me, for whatever reason, & I quietly stop commenting or visiting.

Such is life I guess. Not everyone is going to like you. Nor will you like everyone, either!

There are so many rich & wonderful bloggers out there, why bother with the ones we find 'don't fit'.



Look at this wonderful planter, my lovely Mrs Nice Neighbour made for her sister.

It is a bird planter, & is quite delightful!
With this wretched carpet, I wish we had the same customs as the lovely Japanese have in their houses, as blogged about by the lovely Tanya.
The slipper idea is what we need to keep our carpet clean!!

I do thank you all for the suggestions re my itching problem. I have not tried Pinetarsol but purchased some today. I consulted with my GP today, about another matter, & we touched on the itch. I have now got an appt with the Professor of Dermatology/Skin or whatever, & it is for 1st July. GP agrees, that is my last hope for an answer.

Oscar Lopez, Thinking Of You.

More Past, or Passed...

SG began school today. It seems incredible to realise he is 5, & is off to begin his adventure in Education.



He rang me, bubbling, & delighted, at his first day at School! He had a wonderful day, really likes his teacher, & has a new friend- a girl! His exact words were "I had a New Friend Made!" Wow!



It turns out, she is a girl, who was one of his friends at Pre School. It is nice to think he still likes her at 'Big School'.



We could not attend his first day drop-off, nor the collection. No car.

My Daughter J said she & his Sister collected him.
Because his sister is 18, he regards her as a second mother. She regards him almost as her son, she loves him so much. With many hugs & kisses, they greeted him.
DJ said the parents with Video cameras are quite offensive really, to other parents. One little girl was tracked for meters, photos & film footage of her back collected ad nauseum. DJ could not help but wonder why?? Just how many shots of your daughter's back, walking away, do you need?



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I have previously posted about the car fiasco of DJ's & SIL. We lent our car to DJ to prevent her losing her job.



NEVER BUY A MITSUBISHI MAGNA!!!



I am about to name names as to the wreckers who supplied parts for this rotten car, with written guarantees, which have proved to be worthless- of course!!. If you live on the Central Coast, NSW, & want the name of this germ, I am willing to give all details!! Please email me!!



Now, we have had to lend our lawnmower, since theirs has a broken handle. It was a gift from the FIL, to his son. SIL took it to the repair @$$hole who told them it is a 'cheap thing, not worth repairing' - that is a rude fecking insult. Don't look gift horses in the mouth. What a rude swine. One hopes his camel dung hill, is infested with fleas, & his ant polulation increases daily!!



The fact that SIL left it out in the rain probably doesn't endear him to our hearts, but on the other hand, the repair man doesn't have judging rights on the price, or quality, of an article.



Our DJ said to me, when the $hitheap of a car clapped out, that she wondered what else could follow. These things come in "Threes" were her words.

I told her not to say such things, & not to tempt Murphy, or whoever.



Well, now there is the mower. What the hell is next on the list for Losers??
Or the CCTPPO??*



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To Someone I Love.

You know I love you more than life.
I gave birth to you-
Perfection.

I can no longer hold the candle

At the door of your defence.



I cannot wear the mask
In the face or your pretence.



Or try to shed a light
On the path of your destruction.

Or your reasons, & excuses,

Your tides, your deduction.

I know you made the choices
for the drugs & your destruction

And your denial refuses,
To admit your wasted talent.
Your gifts untold, recluses.

Your art will remain unkown.

Your poetry - unsown.

A wasted talent

O my son,

A seed perhaps ungrown?

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I suspect the Black Dog is upon me.

I just think to acknowledge the prescence.

Bob Dylan, Not Dark Yet.