And this next pic is of today's seriously great haul of fabric loot! Look at all this fabric I got for very little dosh! In the Oz vernacular, I got it for bugger all!
Saturday, June 30
And this next pic is of today's seriously great haul of fabric loot! Look at all this fabric I got for very little dosh! In the Oz vernacular, I got it for bugger all!
Friday, June 29
I always knew the expression 'Blue Moon', but only recently - well, I am aging, so we are talking within the previous 10 years- learnt the meaning of "Blue Moon" . It is the occurrance of a full moon twice in one calendar month.
I am not sure of the significance or importance of such an occurrance, but it is not as rare as I once thought. But it has become part of everyday vernacular, with the 'once in a Blue Moon' reference used for infrequent happenings.
A wonderful book, with instructions on how to make a Kimono! and instructions on how to tie an Obi- or more- I am unaware of the correct term for the plural Obi.
Thursday, June 28
"Sleep on it." is advice that is often given about things.
Well!! I can tell you, sleeping on that mess didnt make for a good result. This morning I have been trying to find a paper bag large enough to wear on my head! Shampooing, slathering with 'product'- what sort of stupid term is that??- hairdryer....nothing makes any difference.
And in other news, GOM had a near death experience, yesterday, only he didnt realise it.
He was foolish enough to let the words 'pudding bowl' pass his lips, within my hearing. He will never know how close he came to a serious mischief!
I did take all your kindly advice to heart & have decided perhaps if I just ignore it all, it might go away, as in adopting an 'ostrich mentality'. I harboured thoughts of sneaking up, to take photos of the "heinous cutter"'s hair, as a warning, for others as to what they should avoid in a 'hairdresser'. But on second thoughts, I cant be bothered.
I decided to just do a few photos instead.
This, in bright sunlight, is some of the shambles in my spare bedroom, which is all in disarray due to carpet problems. A patchwork cushion I made, & actually dislike. It is supposed to be an Angel, but she is too weird for my taste. My daughter's 34 year old doll is sitting in there too, for some obscure reason. And that is my old Teddy I purchased to overcome severe 'bear deprivation', when I went nursing at 18 years of age. This funny old Ted's picture sneaked in here by accident, & I cant delete it, or I will lose all my photo uploads. He has a music box inside, but it doesn't work. He was a garage sale orphan, & I have posted his pic before.
And after reminiscing about my Grandmother's cooking, I started thinking about the old dishes she used to serve things in, & how I still have some of them, & still use them.
And these old glass dishes are not particularly good glass even, but they look nice with a jelly in them, or fruit.
Wednesday, June 27
It was getting me down, & GOM sort of hinted it was a bit 'untidy'. He learnt long ago, that hair is one of those dynamite topics, to be approached only by the very foolhardy or the totally insane, with a death wish.
I decided to try a salon owned, as I mistakenly thought, by a man, a Mr Tintinninni, with good hair tactics, for want of a better description. Women emerging from his 'other' salon, all appear happy & look completely sane, which has to be a plus after a hair cut.
So off we went, with fear & a little loathing, on my part.
I should have learnt by now, that if a girl approaches one/you with a severely burnt-end, frizzed, set of hair tufts, sticking straight out at all angles, one/you should be very afraid, And, if she is also bearing the body of an extremely emaciated 11 year old, whose very pelvic bones threaten to shred the vynyl chairs upon contact, one/you should RUN!!
But stupid me. I sat down, although I did almost bolt. I patiently explained what I wanted. I thought I described it in English which could be easily understood. I made it quite
I wanted the overall length to be left, apart from a fringe area, & the back, nape of the neck area, which could be short. I explained I was growing a bob, with a view to having my hair longer.
Imagine my disbelief when the very first cuts, were in the wrong place, at the wrong length. I should have just jumped up then, & rushed out the door, flinging off all the neck chokers & cloaks, & other hideous draperies. I SHOULD have.
But, stupidly, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. The other hairdresser, who had heard my requests had gone to get coffee. And I watched in transfixed horror, as my hair fell at the snips of the skeletal fingers wielding the scissors.
I cowered & cringed as the other girl returned with her coffee, another client appeared, then another hairdresser, then a male. Finally I told the
GOM looked stunned. He knew better than to utter a word. He put a comforting arm about my shoulder. I sooo badly wanted to cry.
I could not believe the
I am left with a lopsided haircut, that can only be corrected by cutting even more hair off. I just cant face that. I rang Mr Tintinninni, who sounded not one bit surprised at my tale of woe. He told me has sold the salon. I told him it is giving him a bad name, since it still bears his name. He offered to try to fix my hair. He told me to ring the owner to complain.
As I explained to his sympathetic ear, I could not complain at the time. No one wants to burst into hysterical crying in a shop with 4 other staff goggling on. Plus one client. He agreed I was right to leave.
I am still waiting for Simple Simon -the new owner- to return my call. I gave no indication it was a complaint. I will bet they knew though.
We have had one quote for the carpet. The nice man brought along the sample we had tenatively chosen. It looked like a dead, & extremely dirty elephant, lying on the floor in our lounge. We wont be going with that choice!
Does anyone have tips on what to eat to encourage hair growth?? I wish I had the guts to just go the shave option.
There is a lot longer than a week between this bad haircut & a decent one!!
Tuesday, June 26
I have to say, I would choose the Pizza every time.
GOM would choose the chocolate.
If I have the choice of more vegetables, or a desert, I would rather have the vegetables, usually.
I do love fresh fruit though, so if there was fresh mango or tropical fruits available, perhaps I would forgo the vegetables or salad.
When we were growing up, my Grandmother did most of the cooking, as our mother was often away at work.
And our Grandmother was a really good cook. She had come from Yorkshire, & she could make Yorkshire pudding to make you weep, it was so delicious.
And there was almost always a desert, or pudding. She made quite a few steamed puddings in the winter, or Jam Roly Poly, or Treacle pudding.
And she often made a Ginger cake, that she served with stewed fruit of the season, and cream. Perhaps that is why I never liked rhubarb, the horrible tartness with the awful curdly cream....
She told us that a lot of poor families in England used to have their sweets course first, to fill up, as the meat was too expensive for them to be able to afford it often.
My Grandmother's family were tennant farmers, in Yorkshire, & they were probably quite a lot more comfortable than many people, & I dont think they had their pudding for first course.
We had a lovely large vegetable garden, that our Grandfather used to tend, when he was alive. After he died it was a lot smaller, & was cared for mostly by our Grandmother.
She told us that in England, when she was growing up, pumpkin was not considered fit for humans to eat. They grew it for their animals, to eat.
This seemed incredible to me, as I have always loved pumpkin. However, my poor brother loathed it, & I am sure he wished it was only fed to the animals in his childhood! I can remember our Grandmother making him sit at the table until he ate the pumpkin. I felt very sorry for him, & tried to get him to pretend it was egg yolk, mixed with his mashed potato, so he wouldnt get into trouble.
I am of the school of not forcing children to eat things they loathe. What is the point. Sure, offer it to them, and encourage them to taste, but if they genuinely dont like it, forcing them, to my way of thinking, only sets up a resistance that is likely to last a lifetime.
I speak from some experience here, as GOM was forced to eat Broad beans as a child, & he wont touch them now. It took me years to get him to eat many vegetables at all. He only ate peas & potatoes when I first met him. All as a result of being 'force-fed' his vegetables.
His mother told us that when he was sick in bed, she would take his meals in to him. She was always amazed that he always ate his vegetables when he was sick. Later she found a suitcase she had stored under his bed, was full of rotting vegies!! I always laughed at the story, & couldnt help but think it served her right!
Here is a pic of a cat I knitted for SG when he was a baby. It had a nice face, of felt with green eyes. He told us Oscar, the Granddog, ripped the face off the cat. Hmmmm, I wonder if it might have been SG in a fit of rage?
He has asked me to make another face for the poor cat.
And here is a sensible little girl. Sweet Honey, all curled up on the lounge, among the cushions & the crochet rug.
Monday, June 25
For those who dont live in OZ, this wont mean a thing.
He is/was a radio
His -to me- fakeness, was ugly.
His "redneck stirring", ugly also.
Now all they need to do is shoot "the Budgie".
Life could be perfect.
There MAY be some sort of
I expect to wake up dead tomorrow.
Or at least with my mouth full of soap!!
"May the LORD watch between you and me when we are absent one from the other."
This is a family heirloom locket, which has been handed on down to me. The word "Mizpah" was a fashionable thing in the era when my Great Great Grandmother, gave this locket to my Great Grandfather, who was her first born son.And this even blurrier image is of the open locket, with a photo of the old lady, with a lock of her hair on the other side, which had been carefully curled around a fine gold wire, on which there were seed pearls threaded, through the lock of hair.
My Grandmother was given the locket by her father, & she gave it to my mother. Apparently it was fashionable in the time when the locket was made, for mothers to give their sons such items of jewellry. My Grandmother told us that her father was somewhat disgusted, & never wore it himself.
Which seems a little sad to think about, now that I am a mother myself, & know how precious my children are to me.
And this is the story of a 'heinous crime'. (Though it was never referred to in quite that manner!)
When I was little, I 'got my hands on' the locket. Apparently I broke the catch & so my mother had to take the locket to a jeweller for repair.
My mother swore they had opened the piece which contained the hair, she thought to see how it was done, & when she got the locket back, the gold wire had been broken,& the seed pearls had all fallen off the wire.
I was always told the story of what had happened to the locket, & my mother was always so accusatory, about this.
It made me miserable every time she told someone the story. It made me feel so guilty for years.
But finally I felt anger. Anger at her for being careless enough to leave the locket where I could gain access to it. Anger at her for insisting on repeating the story so many times, to all who would listen.
I cringed & curled to think I had been guilty of such destruction of a beautiful item. And cringed even more, because it had meant to so much, to the mother who had given it. I was sure she would have hated me!
I dont feel guilt about it now, but it has made me miserable for years.
Whenever one of my children 'got their hands on' something & damaged it, or broke it, I always blamed myself for being careless enough to leave it where they could gain access to it. And I always made sure they never felt guilty about it too!
I know my mother didn't realise how badly she made me feel. And I suppose there was a part of her, that felt so bad, & so guilty for allowing that to happen, that she wanted to 'blame' someone else, so she wouldnt have to feel so bad.
I remember I finally flared up at my mother when I heard her telling one of my nieces about the locket. And she was genuinely startled at my fierce reaction.
I have never worn the locket, but I often look at it, & wonder about my Great great Grandmother. I wonder about DNA as I look at the grey hair, so carefully coiled in the little window.
I wonder if she mourned the fact that her son took his family, & emigrated to New Zealand. I suppose she did. She never saw him again.
My Grandmother said her Grandmother was not a very warm woman. She had not approved of her son marrying my Grandmother's mother. And therefore, I dont think she had been particularly fond of the six grandchildren. My Grandmother said her Grandmother was very strict, & they dreaded going to visit her. How sad.
Sunday, June 24
I tend to the idea that there is no 'bad' language. There is only 'language', & depdending on how or where it is used, it all has a place in our thoughts, speech, reading, & entertainment.
Sometimes I find swearing to be extremely funny. Depending on how or where it is used. And on occasions, a simple damn, can have more insult & venom than any other word.
Friends of ours have young children. Of course they bringing them up not to use swearing, & as they live in an area bordering on some rough elements it is inevitable that the kids will hear all sorts, at school.
The father was very intrigued when the younger son, of 7, came home & said, wide eyed, "Dad my friend knows all these swear words. And he even knows both the "F" words!"
Our friend didnt want to ask what the 'other' f word is, so we are left in the dark over that one.
We recently watched the movie "Little Miss Sunshine" which made us laugh, & it contains a fair amount of swearing, but all in context, I feel, & all humourous.
I can remember when I was young, I first heard 'real' swearing at school really. My Grandparents didnt swear, & our mother didnt swear as far as we knew.
As we got older we realised our uncles did a bit of swearing occasionally, especially at the dogs, at shearing time, & during mustering, but the word of choice was usually bugger or bloody.
Our Grandmother frowned upon us if we said damn or hell! Which seems unbelievable now!
I remember the boys at school giggling behind the bike sheds- yes, we really did have bike sheds- teaching all the girls swear words. And smoking. Somehow smoking & swearing seemed the perfect partners, in our young school days.
I would like to thank everyone for offering advice for the crossing out, & it is peeving me, as I cant find a reason to try it out, so maybe I will just try anyway.
The colours have not shown up true to real life. The block on the extreme right, has a very loud yellow with the bright pattern, & the green is a lot brighter too. The central heart is actually a purple. I could use the house block for a label- I think that is originally what I made it to use as, but somehow it has languished in the box of unwanteds.
I see Finn is using hers, & has been posting about using orphas blocks, so it got me thinking about mine. I do have others, but am not sure where they are -haha. Time to have a clean up.
It is cold here today, & though the sun it out, & the sky is blue, it still seems very chilly.
I have just made a huge pot of very thick vegetable soup, so I will slurp into some of that to try to warm up!
Hope your Sunday is enjoyable.
Saturday, June 23
Smashed, down & away by The Garden Vandal- aka GOM!
I was stunned. I couldnt believe my eyes. When I asked him why? he just shrugged, & said "They were no good, they needed to go, they dont 'do any good'!"
When I again asked "Why? Why would anybody do that?" I got no answer.
He had gone to collect all my slashings, to stuff them into the green waste bin. I usually let them lie for a day or so, to wilt, so that more can be fitted into the bin.
I must say, I felt like just stuffing GOM into the bin!!
I had a very vivid dream last night. The kind that just haunts you all day, & keeps popping back into your mind. One of the people in the dream was Peter O Brien, the Aussie actor. I dont know anything about Peter O Brien apart from what he looks like, & cant for the life of me work out how he ended up in one of my dreams.
This morning in the shower, I was enjoying the warm water, feeble though the stream seems to be, now we have fitted the new 'water saving' shower head we were supplied, free, to help save water.
The 'nether regions' of the body hang out in the dry cold, while the hot patches burn, under the thin stream of water. It is enough to make me think of sneaking the old shower head back on again!
My mind was flitting about planning the day. Happily applying conditioner to my hair.... only to discover I had grabbed the shampoo again, by mistake.
Dont you hate it when that happens!! Wool gathering! Where the hell was my mind??
The carpet debacle continues.
We have been told to get a quote for the replacement thereof.
We went off to visit a carpet outlet on Thursday.
It has been many years since we had thought about carpets, really. We had no idea what was available or what current 'fashion' decreed we might need.
We looked at several extremely ugly samples, we had thrust at us, as being worthy of consideration.
Rearing back in horror was my main reaction.
The Salesman asked what we were looking for etc etc. He kept thrusting hideous samples our way. I kept thinking there must be something nicer about.
In the end we had narrowed down the field from the 'too hairy' ones-my description- and the 'too hard cold' ones, to something we both felt we might be able to live with.
We await measure/quote time.
And yesterday, we took a friend with us, & visited another carpet outlet. Where a lovely polite, handsome, married, 12 year old... er I mean, young man, gave us information to base our choices upon. He is coming to measure/quote next week also.
GOM & I, being chalk & cheese, very rarely like the same things. But we surprisingly often detest the same things.
I dont know how we are going on the carpet front. I would like to try a different colour, but guess I will stick with the neutral safe option. He tells me he 'doesnt care'. We will see.
And now, while I am in 'mess-of -a-post' mode, I would like to ask for some help?? Anybody?? Please??
Why can I no longer see my Neoworx visitor list- I really enjoyed seeing the countries where my visitors came from. It appears to be still on my Html but will not appear on the sidebar. Neoworx have not replied to my query about it.
And how does one get the line to strike out a word, or phrase, when you want it to remain visible?
And how, can I motivate myself to knuckle down & try to lose some weight!! I just know I really need to, but cant seem to convince my appetite or some part of my brain, that I MUST at least try to diet.
Phoebe Snow, No Rerets
WTF?? This wont publish?
Friday, June 22
After my reminiscences yesterday, about Ted, I recalled other details.
Thursday, June 21
When I was a young child, I lived in many houses too. It must have been the pattern of my life to be somewhat of a Gypsy.
It had long been my mother's dream to own her own house. She worked very hard, & was a good saver, & a very good housekeeper. After living in a somewhat grotty inconvenient back flat, which had a copper to be boiled for washing, she finally had enough money for a deposit for her own home.
So began our rounds of looking at houses for sale. Always something wrong. Too expensive. Too shabby. In need of too much repair. But finally she found a warm house, with garish colours in every room. Unbelievable colours. Colours to make you sick- some of them looked like sick. All four walls, in each room, painted different bright & ugly, colours! Indescribable blues, greens, orangey brick, reds. All mixed by hand I would think, & most quite patchy as well. The 'new batch, hadnt quite matched', sort of ugly.
It was currently tennanted, by a family with young children. The young family were quite prepared not to stay on. And so, finally, my mother had her very own house.
As an aside here, the little girl who had previously lived in the house with her family when they rented it, continued to duck in, & use the toilet each day. Imagine my mother's surprise when *ahem* brown things appeared mysteriously, daily, in the toilet bowl. Finally my mother caught the little girl one day, & had to tell her she must not continue to use the toilet, as it was no longer her home! We never found out why she didnt flush, but it must have been so she wouldnt be caught.
One of the first things she decided to do, to improve the house, was to repaint all the rooms, to get rid of the ugly colours, as money would allow. I am inclined to use pastel or neutral shades for my choice in my house. Mum was much the same. So we painted away, & gradually the house became my mother's home.
At the time, I was 'keeping company' (haha, dont you just love that quaint phrase!) with a young man, I shall call Ted Nitpicsty. Ted was a tall sallow skinned man, with long limbs that seemed to somehow 'dangle'. Ted professed to love most music, but was especially fond of jazz- I have posted long ago about a visit to a 'jazz' club, with Ted. St Vitus Dance sufferers have nothing on Ted listening to jazz.
Ted also loved Mahler, & once subjected me to a whole four hours of listening to some of it- at top volume! It cured me for life.
However, even though I cant really remember what the initial attraction was to Ted, the final straw in his getting 'the order of the boot', as my mother used to put it, was when he promised he was a great painter, with impeccable interior decorating skills, & would gladly paint my mother's lounge room for her.
And, he would lend us his paintings he had bought, to hang on the walls. Never mind the fact that the paintings were not really my mother's taste, & in reality not even really a good size for the space & style of room, my mother politely said that was very kind of Ted. So the pictures duly were brought & hung- before the painting of the walls had begun.
The weekend came, & Ted arrived to stay, & painting was to proceed. No sooner had the top been taken off the paint tin, than Ted was afflicted with a violent blinding migraine! He had to retire to the darkened bedroom, & all needed to be kept quiet, & very still.
So we closed the bedroom door, the passage door, & prepared the walls for painting. And applied the first coat of paint. Tea time. Mum cooking a delicious meal. Sheepish Ted, miraculously recovered, & ravening for food, appears. To wolf down huge helpings of said delicious food.
Next day, further preparations for the painting. Further painfully debilitating migraine attack!
More delish meals cooked, more huge helpings, disappearing down the gullet of miraculously recovered Ted.
This went on for several weekends. Finally we got it. Of course by then we had painted the damn room ourselves, with 3 coats of paint, needed to blot out garish prior painting.
Mr Ted Nitpicsty was given his paintings to take home, & his phone calls were not answered.
My brother will remember Ted vividly. I think he might have been awake to him, long before I was!
The house, is still in the family. When my brother married, he bought the house from our mother, & he lived many happy years there, until he built a new house, on the large piece of land at the back of the old house. Now my nephew & his partner have bought the house from my brother. It is still a warm welcoming house!
Wednesday, June 20
The last time I visited my mother was during the weeks leading up to her death, but I didnt know at the time, that my mother was about to die. I was so lucky to be able to look after her until she had to go into hospital, just prior to her death. I noticed that some of her china 'treasures' which she had always had, were chipped, & that was a new thing about them. She always kept them in a glass doored cupboard, or a China cabinet, & was most careful about them. Some of the plates & cups & saucer sets had been my grandmothers, & Mum had treasured those too.
The little Shepherd has now got a little chip on the base, that was never there before. I still love them though, & love the way their little faces have been so carefully painted.
The little corks in the base of them are original too, & are obviously old. They are just under 3 inches high, so they are tiny compared to modern salt & pepper sets. My mother told me she had never used them, but she loved them as much as I do.
Tuesday, June 19
I am sure there are readers who will not believe it can be, or will think I have embroidered or my memory is remiss.
It is the story of a little boy named Glen, whose life crossed ours when he & our son became friends when they first started school. He lived in the same street as we did, but a good few doors down the street.
We had just purchased a house in a nice seaside suburb, with a lot of modern houses, & many young families. It was a nice time of our life in many respects, & we made friends that we still have as friends to this day.
Glen had an older brother & a younger sister. I was aquainted slightly with Glen's mother, & spoke with her at the bus stop, from time to time. She was divorced, & worked, so her children used to spend a lot of time with a closer-to-us-neighbour who was a friend of ours, & who was very fond of the children & the mother.
Glen developed the habit of coming to our house after school, & he & our son played pirates, & Zorro & all the hero games little boys of that era loved to play. I made capes for them, and pirate hats, & masks to wear. I always made one for Glen too. They used our wooden outdoor setting of table & attached seats, as a Pirate Ship, & it also doubled as a Batmobile & various other useful vehicles.
Glen was a very polite little boy, & he loved to come into the kitchen & chatter away to me. His speech had a slight impediment, & sometimes he was quite hard to understand, but he would chatter away, & I would murmur answers as I cooked, not always listening intently.
Glen's mother met a new man, & before long, the new man had moved in with the family, & the children stayed home after school with the man, who, Glen informed me, "Is going to be our new Daddy". Glen didnt seem to like the 'new daddy' very much, & so he preferred to continue coming to our house to play, & would stay as late as he could. Glen's mother still worked, & the new man seemed to have a night shift job, I think. I told his mother I didnt mind Glen being at our place, & since he was no trouble, & he was good a good little mate for our son, he came as often as he could.
And that is when I first became aware of what Glen was actually talking about. He still came into the kitchen, still chattered away, & I still absentmindedly listened. But I began to hear that the 'new dad' was strict. That he made them stay in their rooms, he was 'not nice'. By this time, the mother had married the "new Dad", so his word was to be authority. I gathered the older brother had the hardest time of it, & Glen escaped to our place.
We moved about this time, into the inner city Hotel, & Glen cried when he knew we were going. He told me he wished he could come with us.
Imagine our shock, when we read in the paper, that Glen's mother had drowned, on a holiday on the wild West Coast, in a torrentially flooded river, supposedly during a 'comfort stop' on the bank of the river, while on holiday.
Then, after some months, the 'new father ' was accused of murdering Glen's mother. The evidence mounted, & police were sure he had pushed the mother into the river. He had forged an Insurance Policy, for a huge amount of money for the mother's life. He was arrested & charged with murder.
And while the police were conducting inquiries, they re-enacted the 'murder'. And a young policewoman drowned, in the same flooded river. It all seemed too bizarre & sad. The neighbour who had babysat the children was declared a 'hostile witness'. She said she knew the 'new Dad' was going to murder her friend. He had got violent, & used to threaten the mother, & the children.
The children were 'shipped off' to live with their natural father, who was not a well man.
The next chapter in the story seemed almost unbelievable. It was discovered that the new Dad had been interfereing with young boys, in his role as Scout Master. Fresh inquiries were conducted, & the father of 3 of the molested boys declared he was going to kill the 'new Dad'. He was a huge man of Island lineage, & it seemed he just may carry out his threat. The 'new Dad' was tranferred to a Prison further away down the South Island.
I kept thinking of Glen & his siblings. I kept racking my brains to recall the conversations & phrases from his kitchen chatter came back to me. I felt sick. I could see why children felt helpless, & didnt 'tell' when they were being abused.
Glen was a very sensitive child. He told me he didnt like his 'new Dad', but he also told me "Mum loves him, & she just wants to be happy, so we have to be good, & do as he tells us, no matter what." And, "He makes Mum cry." And "Mum cries when we dont do as he says. He tells on us when she comes home".
We wondered if 'new Dad' had murdered the mother because she had discovered what he was up to with the children. The neighbour friend swore she had found out. She said so in court, but was once more declared hostile.
The final chapter to the "new Dad's" story came in the Southern Prison. He was stabbed to death by another inmate. It seemed a fitting end.
As to Glen & his brother & sister, I dont know what became of them, but their natural father died. It just seemed to be too cruel a fate for three young children.
I often think of Glen, & wonder where he is today. He had the most beautiful brown eyes & a smile that could light a whole house.
Monday, June 18
Peggy very kindly shipped it all the way from her home in USA, to my home in Australia. Arent I lucky! It took some time to arrive, but it was a bright spot in the midst of all our ghastly events here.
Thank You so much Peggy, & William, who actually drew my name!
I had planned on taking lovely picnicky pics, but with this dismal wet weather, there is no chance!
I have been out & about very early this morning, to have a chest Xray, which I am sure will be ok. Just a checkup really. I have a Harmatoma in one lung, & as it has been in evidence since 1989, I am assured if it wasnt benign I would be well dead! But nevertheless, it is growing, albeit slowly, so a check on it's progress is advised every 2 years or so.
As we had friends over yesterday & GOM had a very merry afternoon, I left him snoozing in the bed, & dashed off to have my Xray. I rushed into the office a little late for the appointment, at 8.15, but still had a small wait. Whilst sitting patiently- lol- I noticed to my horror I seemed to be wearing a dog hair top! Even though our dogs are both Poodle Maltese cross, & not given to shed, Leo seems to have inherited some shedding from somewhere & his white fine Maltese-y hairs cling to navy & black like magic. I have tried the clothes dryer to remove the hairs, & those sticky rollers, & clothes brushes, & vaccuum cleaning, but still they cling.
I felt like laughing, but of course one must not laugh when people are sitting waiting to learn the fate of their body's strangenesses. But, on the other hand, a little inappropriate laughter could just lift everyone's mood?? No?
I must be getting old & eccentric, as I catch myself wanting to dance, when I hear joyous music in malls. Or whilst out shopping for fabric. But then of course, fabric fondling -or shopping is a joyous event! And should be danced to, before it is too late, & arthritis cripples!
I see it is Father's Day in other parts of the world, & there are tributes to fathers being posted.
I never really knew my father very well, but I loved him fiercely, & when he died I was utterly devastated. Part of that devastation, was the finality of his death, & the knowledge that I could never get to know him any better than I had. It seemed too sad, & too cruel.
He had died alone, in his bed, & that seemed to be terribly sad too. I travelled, alone, back to New Zealand for his funeral, which was held in the small church where he had married my mother many years before.
He had remarried, & it seemed unutterably sad, that neither of his wives attended his funeral. I know my mother would have liked to, as she remained very fond of him, though their marriage had not worked out.
He was buried, on what would have been his 73rd birthday, in the military section of the Cemetary in the small town, where he had married my mother.
The funeral was the first time my full brother & I got to meet our father's second family- our half brothers & sisters. Which seemed even sadder.
I clung to my father's sister, who is my best beloved Aunt. And I cried when no one else seemed to be crying.
Because I hadnt seen my father for some years, I went to see him before the funeral. They had pomped his hair into a grotesque shape, & he would have hated it. We all remarked on it later. I think one of the saddest things was seeing the little drawings & letters his grandchildren had placed in the coffin. I wished that my children had had the chance to know him.
It was a terrible bleak cold damp day, the day he was buried. I dislike burials at the best of times. I was totally stricken.
Later, at the RSA Club, we got to meet with our siblings, & found we really like them, & wish that the paths or our lives had been different. I would love to get to know them all. One sister was not present, & to this day, I have never met her. I understand she lives over here in Australia too.
I am so glad my brother & I went back to see our fahter's grave, on a sunny morning, on our trip last November. The pain was a little easier, & somehow the military headstone seemed something 'decent & proper' for the memory of our father. Whose life was ruined by his war experiences.
Bob Seger, Roll Me Away.
Pearl Jam, Given to Fly
Sunday, June 17
Parts of the description sound about right, but other parts are not. I do like people, love having them call to see us, love spending time them.
I like to think I am a good friend, prepared to be there for people if they need me.
|You Would Be a Pet Cat|
Independent and aloof, you don't like to be dependent on anyone.
And as for other people, you can take them or leave them. You often don't care.
You live your life by your own rules. And you have deep motivations that no one truly understands.
Why you would make a great pet: You're not needy or greedy... unlike other four legged friends.
Why you would make a bad pet: You're not exactly running down to greet people at the door
What you would love about being a cat: Agility and freedom
What you would hate about being a cat: Being treated like a dog by clueless humans
The lady-? with the perfume smell is back visiting.
At least it is nicer than the real smell the house seems to have.
Shane Nicholson, Designed to Fade
Sheryl Crow, If it Makes You Happy
Saturday, June 16
But also thought of Dorothy.....
And the expectation that a rainbow will bring something good??
We are having more rain, wind & gah weather.
No one has been to see about the carpet, the roof or any other problems.
I feel the house is not a pleasant place to be.
The little grave out the back door filled with water, & became the little pool!
And Hitler & Eva, (as he calls me now, since I told him about my post) went shopping for some luxuries like bread!
I also had an outing with our lovely daughter to shop for batting & backing for the SIL's quilt.
And there was a sale on all sorts of things. And we got a dinner set each with new square plates for $10, reduced from $60, so we thought it must have been meant to be.
For anyone wanting to set up house they had dinner sets for $7- 36 pieces, including knives forks spoons! Amazing. It just so happens GOM had coveted a square dinner service - so now he has one!
Why does a little voice in my head keep saying "The food will get cold on those plates awfully quickly!" Which wont really worry me, as I eat & drink only tepid things anyway... I dislike hot.
In other thoughts for the day, I have been reading of 'favourite things'.. Thinking about favourite foods. Favourite music. Favourite authors.
When it comes to movies, I think my all time favourite scene is from the Movie Terms of Endearment.
It is the scene where Shirley McLaine is driving a drunk Jack Nicholson in the surf, in an open top car, & he is standing on the seat, & she cant really drive. For some reason that scene says things to me, that almost make me want to laugh and cry, at the same time.
And the most harrowing scene is where Shirley is screaming for pain relief for her daughter, who is dying of cancer. I feel that scene in the pit of my stomach, every time I see it. It never fails to move me.
Well, away to fun things like the ever present washing to dry. And the food to prepare. And the rain to listen to.
Buddy Holly, Raining in My Heart.
Friday, June 15
Thursday, June 14
A small update in the progress of rottenness. Last evening, I thought the washing just needed spinning dry. I thought the bowl of the washing machine was empty of water. Hah! WRONG!!
Suddenly I noticed a huge black mess creeping out onto the passage carpet. EEEK!! Sewagey water was spilling from the drainage hole in the bathroom out onto & into the carpet. The overflowing water was initially from the washing machine, which could not drain. I had no idea the machine had contained so much water.
Gom rushed about doing his own form of cussing, & mopping & grumping.
Today we have had drainage folk here, unblocking the drain, & locating the problem of the blockage. It seems my beloved Lilly Pilly tree is the culprit! So now we have a point of repair to work on. And the gaping hole in the wrong part of the patio!! GRRRRR! That is clay lying out on the pavers. Clay which will all need to be rammed back into the hole dug by GOM.
A friend called over, & I heard GOM telling him that 'Meggie is going in the hole!' Which is not fair! I didnt advise digging the damn thing!
I had a visit to the Doctor, & all would seem to be normal wear & tear on the bod. Just a chest checkup to be done, on the 'thing' growing in there, plus the dreaded Mammogram.
I rang the insurance about the carpet early this morning, & this afternoon some nice men came & cut large pieces of carpet out of the passageway, & the bedroom doorways, & sprayed a germicidal spray to decontaminate, & deodorise. I dont think it has worked!
I thank you all for your kind thoughts. I thank Crafty for her lovely cussing!
I think, the 'silver lining' might be that we will have to have new carpet fitted, as the whole house is now contaminated, because of the wetness. It is not really nice to think we are still living in it. And, of course, it couldnt have come at a worse time, when all the storm damage is still being sorted out.
The men for the carpet began work at 4am. They wont finish until 6pm. They like to work they said, but they feel rather 'over it'.
Oh and the tooth aches on, cannot be removed until July! But the antibiotics should kick in tomorrow, & ease the pain.
Wednesday, June 13
Sports & I are complete strangers. I dont partake, I dont watch, I dont listen, I dont understand. I loathe, in fact!! So, the best I could come up with, all those years ago, was this version.
I named it "It is not Sport, but it has got Balls" And this first pic is of the backing I used for the quilt.
It fits on the top of our Queen size bed. It has warmed us these many winters. I was so inept at quilting in the days I made this quilt, it is buttoned. With vintage buttons from my beloved Mother's button tin. And I felt quite proud that I found this ball print to use for backing.
And here is the front, which I spent many secret hours constructing. The image is very dark in this pic. The actual quilt is very bright, & was when I first realised that scrap quilts were my favourite type of quilts. I love every minute of making this quilt for GOM, & he still loves it. And still insists using it on our bed.
The roof leaked some more- well it is covered by Insurance, & will be dealt with in due course. Our policy covers the damage done in the storms, & compared to a lot of people ours is a minor. Some poor souls have had floods into their houses, & been looted into the bargain, so we have been 'fortunate'.
Friends of ours with the flooded carpets said the house is somewhat rank, in spite of the carpet having been all removed. So we do consider ourselves lucky.
Now our drainage has decided to cause us further problems, & we are not sure it it is directly related to just the neighbour privet, or the heavy rains have added to the problem.
One of my ankles has decided about now is a good time to have an arthritis flare, so hobbling downstairs to the toilet is not really a joy!
And, yesterday, my tooth decided it would be painfree for most of the day. So in the best delaying tradition, I neglected to call the dentist. Yes, I know wrists need to be slapped.
But! I was too busy looking up! I havent got time to worry about the minor irks. I am on fire with another project.
As my daughter pointed out to me, I have not made the SIL a quilt of his own. She is sick of him taking hers to snuggle into, or using Small Grandson's.
SIL is a Roosters fan. For those of you outside Oz, the Roosters are a Sydney NSW, Rugby League Team, officially known as Eastern Suburbs (I think! Not being remotely interested, I dont watch or listen, & it all washes over me).
So while going through stash looking for something else, I discovered this rooster fabric I had forgotten I had. So out it came & off I went on the quilt trail. GOM doesnt yet know who the quilt is for, so he happily went off to do the shopping yesterday- groceries, which I hate. And I got to sew on.
Then DJ came over, with Adult Granddaughter, & Small Grandson, so I had to hastily hide all the evidence of what the quilt was about. And another friend dropped by, so I had a break from the sewing for tea/coffee break.
Here is the production result of Monday. It is surprising how different things look when you photograph them.
A close up of the roosters & some chooks. Small Grandson loved all the bright colours & happily asked if I was making him another quilt. I didnt tell him who it was for, but did say it wasnt his. I always feel mean, as he loves to play with the colours & scraps & will sit happily rearranging them all- "For a quilt Nanna"
Monday, June 11
Today, I feel just like that sad little image looks.
I have a tooth dying. I have had so many of my teeth die on me, I know the feeling.
And of course, it would never die on an ordinary week day, when there might be a possibility of getting to my dentist for some relief.
No, my teeth have always managed to choose long weekends, or public holidays, so that I suffer maximum pain & discomfort- haha, to ludicrously understate it.
I will last out till later this week, or next, sometime. Then there will be all the gory detail of root canal, & emptying vast amounts of dollars from the bank account.
I am desperately trying to cling onto my remaining teeth. I have no joy from the false ones I do have, & wish to avoid having to get more.
I knew on Saturday morning there was going to be a dead tooth. I woke with paralysed chin, swollen. Told myself it was the facial nerve, which acts up since surgery on a parotid gland. But deep in my heart, I knew it wasn't.
Well, it would seem the rain is over. There are patches of blue, amid weaker lighter clouds. And yesterday, we discovered we have a leaking roof - again. This will be the fourth time we have had to have it repaired.
Compared to the damage others have sustained, we are lucky to get off so lightly. Two boring pictures of the wet damage on the ceiling, & there is another patch in the kitchen, which I have just discovered. But I will spare you that boring picture!
Sunday, June 10
We contacted friends yesterday, whose house has been flooded, as we thought they may need a dry berth for the night, but were assured they were ok. Hopefully they are still coming here for the afternoon, as planned, but it will depend on the state of treatment for their carpets.
As many suburbs were without electricity, we considered ourselves very lucky! After the one small outage in the morning on Friday, we have been well warm, & fully lit- one might say!
We also thought we may have to have our daughter & family here for the night, as their front lawn is like a 2 foot deep lake! But the house is set higher, & so they were safe & dry.
I dont think there was as much rain fell last night, & the highway was certainly not so filled with sirens screaming past.
Thank you for concern regarding my daughter's hand, it is responding very well to the antibiotic, & she is certain she wont require surgery for it, so that is good news.
Quite a few of you commented on Bronwyn Hayes, who markets her designs under the name Red Brolly. I have posted some quilts I have done using her designs, & though I have posted them before I am sure you wont mind seeing them again.
This photos shows Bronwyn's quilt pattern Country Cottage, & it was featured in an Australian Country Threads Magazine, Vol 3, No 10.
SG loves this quilt, & it is a regular favourite for making his Cubby Houses.
This pic features my favourite angel, & I have used this pattern for other purposes, putting on a bag I made for a loved cousin, & I have another I was going to frame.... in the to-do file! haha.