Can you hear the sound of fingernails on the blackboard?

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..

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.

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.

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

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.

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..

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.

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.

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.

Small Treats

Many of my recent Treats, have been in connection with Morty, our new little Cat Boy.

He never ceases to delight me, with his lovely little body, and his delightful poses when he is totally relaxed.

I like to think he feels totally safe, in our house, with his new 'brother and sister'. His Big Brother loves to play with him, and his older sister is wary, but at times quite tolerant... unless he sneaks up to sleep beside her, and then she gets a little indignant!

I am so fascinated by those little pink paws, so clean and neat. I love that Morty is so fastidious with his personal hygiene and his cleaning routine.

We have had cats in the past, but I suppose I was too busy to study them very much, and in the everyday hustle and bustle of life, did not appreciate just how graceful they really are.

Gom is not exactly well, but he is about as good as he can be. He continues to take utter delight in Leo, who is his Best Friend in All  The World!

We cannot work out why Leo has suddenly developed a stained surrounding of his mouth. His diet has not changed, so we are left wondering. It is obviously something in his saliva, that is causing the staining. He has quite a pink bottom area now, because he licks himself in that area, to ensure cleanliness, I guess.

Any tips, or suggestions are welcome!

Another shot of Morty, on the computer desk, where he comes to commune and smooch with me each evening. He is not a cuddly cat, but he can be very smoochy when he wants to be!

We have been out shopping for a furniture item. A new lounge suite to be precise.

We have heard all about the slump in sales, and how desperate businesses are, to increase sales.

It also happens to be the end our Australia's Financial Year at the end of June, so one is expecting bargains galore, with heavy discounts.

Obviously we dont look prosperous enough, or poor enough, or something, because we were struck with a singular lack of enthusiasm to sell us anything.

Plus al distinct lack of energy in trying to sell us any items.

With one notable exception.

A very portly Gentleman, who claimed to be the " Maufacturing Owner" of the store. He sized us up, and had a stab at our ages.

"Come with me Good Lady" he oozed to me. "I know what you need, Darling."

Steering me over to the recliner chairs.

"You get to be a certain age, you need some comfort, you need some aid."

I am lead to the recliner chair section of his shop. I am shown the 'Fabric Covered Chair'. Gom is tagging along in the rear.

"This is lovely, so comfortable. But when you get to Sixty, Sixty Five... Seventy, ...plus"- studying Gom & I for reactions- "You need this Leather".

Indicating a handsome chair, of very soft and attractive Leather.

"You might lose a little liquid, not good. It will smell on the fabric. What you need is this Leather. You can clean a little spill. It will still be a nice chair".

I found myself fascinated with his plethora of GOLD. His large chubby neck was adorned with heavy gold chains. One carried a huge heavy gold cross, another a rather strange looking item.. an eye? something quite exotic looking. I get the feeling it is some symbol of significance to Good Fortune. I am not sure, but dim recognition stirs in memory.

I note the heavy wide gold rings adorning several fingers. The really elaborate, huge gold watch. The huge heavy gold bracelet chain adorning the meaty wrist. His neatly "Grecian 2000" dyed hair. His attractive hazel/brown/green eyes, peculiar to his Mediteranean Heritage.

My eyes become fixated on his faded, and obviously, very vintage, checked polyester, short sleeved shirt. It appears to have some small cigarette burns on the right front below the collar area. It also has some small paint stains on the lower left of the front. I am slightly puzzled as to why a man of obvious wealth, would wear such an old and worn shirt. Is it his Good Luck Charm Shirt? I privately wonder to myself.

We are pressed to sit and operate the Electric Leather Chairs. Yes, yes, they are indeed very comfortable. For the price of one, we could possibly have an all inclusive Cruise to some Tropical Island Paradise. Gom makes 'considerate' noises.

Mr Richly Orante, Salesman/Owner, luckily gets an incoming call on his Ostentatiously-Loud-Ringing Mobile Phone, and we gracefully and gratefully slide out of the shop. His beringed fingers are making clutching motions in our direction.

We do not actually run, as we are leaving.

However, the thought does cross our minds.

We have not made any hasty decisions regarding the seating.  We will keep open minds.

However we are amazed at how little ground retailers are prepared to give, when desperate to make sales.

Guns N Roses, November Rain

Human Traits for Inanimate Objects, and Some Vegetables and Fruit.

It has long been a joke in our family, to regard inanimate objects as possessing human traits or characteristics.

Or to regard fruit and/or vegetables to possess very real human characteristics.

My post titled "Interviewing the Oranges"  demonstrates this belief. (I do perhaps feel some folk were bewildered by this post.)

We have in the past had pot plants which had names. My mother had an 'Arthur', in the best tradition of Mad Magazine's Arthur. My Mother's plant was a huge Mostera Deliciosa, and it used to grow huge aerial roots, which would embed themselves in the carpet if a vigilant eye was not kept on them. It sometimes 'wept' when it had been overwatered. 

 Our Mother sat in her favourite chair, positioned beside this huge plant. Often at first glance into the lounge room, our mother was not always visible, because of Arthur's huge leaves. We used to laugh about it, and declare that one day we would find a small pile of bones that would be remains of our mother, after Arthur had devoured her.

I swear when we were all gathered in her warm lounge laughing and enjoying each other's company, Arthur laughed right along with us.

Arthur's tears were not always induced by overwatering.

Arthur grew to be so huge he had to be retired to the garden, where he ~or was it she? ~ fruited happily, and grew to truly monstrous proportions..

Keeping the family tradition alive I had a huge Aspidistra which lived in our lounge and other lounges various dwellings, where we lived,  and she was called Gracie, after Gracie Fields, who sang a song about the Biggest Aspidistra in the World. I really did love that plant, and was amazed when it rewarded me with the very secret and quiet little white flowers that are rarely seen.

A friend had given me a beautiful wooden plant holder to house Gracie, and it was with sadness I gifted Gracie and her holder to another good friend when we moved over here to live.

As to other inanimate objects, cars are things which require some respect. I once had a very old small Morris Oxford car. It served me so faithfully for the years I needed it, and it never let me down. I was sad to see it go. I also once owned a Torana, which was a true Aussie. It never let me down either and I cried when I had to sell it because it was 'surplus to our needs', once I had given up my career to go Hotelkeeping once more with Gom.
The car we have now has a name, though I seldom use it. When I was not the prime driver I didn't tend to think of it in terms of it's name. Now, however, I do, because I need it to serve me faithfully.

My Mother was inclined to keep her electric appliances for long stretches of time. She swore it was because she genuinely cared about them, became fond of them, and above all, treated them with respect and reverance. She had one such ancient toaster. She kept it in a cupboard,  covered with a cloth, when it was not in use. When it began to give the user small shocks, it was with great alarm I declared she must  get a new one. She laughed and said it was not malicious, she was quite sure it was just toying with us, and would never really hurt us! The fact that it erratically changed settings & seriously burnt the toast, seemingly at will, from time to time was 'just a quirk'. "Just to keep us on our toes!" she laughed.

When she became ill, I wasted no time in getting a replacement... which promptly broke! I took it back, and had it replaced, but you may imagine my mother's mirth over it all. She was convinced the old toaster was 'laughing at me'. And, bedevilling the new one to boot!

This is just Morty, ignoring all and sundry. I just threw this pic of him in here for a little light relief.

I do not currently have any pot plants with names. Our current house is not really conducive to keeping pot plants. Last time we had a cat, it ate all my African Violet's flowers, so perhaps it is just as well, with Morty romping about the house. Eating the corners off letters and shredding magazine covers!

We have a contrary, ornery, doorbell. It is a cordless one, with two sound outlets. It was given to us by a friend when he learned of the sorry saga of our doorbells. I will not retell those sagas here, but just say, there have been four, each sorrier than the last. All equally useless at the end of the day.

The new doorbell has performed very well... until recently! Suddenly the doorbell has begun chiming at odd hours. Sometimes it does the full series of notes, as though pushed long and hard.
Mornings, chimes ring out. I hastily dress, shout down the barking mutts.

Carefully, descend the stairs. Open the door. No one. Not a soul to be seen, in the drive on the street, on our lawn. Just NO ONE.

Evenings, afternoons, chimes. No One. It has happened when our Son was here staying. It is a mystery how it is triggered.
As it happens, I do believe in ghosts, having had some first hand experiences with such phenomena.

However I do not believe it is a ghost resposible for the chiming of the doorbell. I am sure there must be some logical explanation to explain the 'phantom callers'. I just wish I knew what it is.


Cat Stevens, Moonshadow.

Batman, and other Impersonations.

Yesterday, Gom took it upon himself to impersonate Batman.

Either that, or he was returning to childhood, with the belief that he could fly.

In fact, he 'flew' head first down our stairs.

To land, spread-eagled,  face down, at the bottom.

On the cold, hard, ceramic tiles, of our entryway, inside the front door.

I had been begging him not to attempt vacuuming our floors. We had been out, and had locked Leo, our dog,  outdoors, to avoid him beating up his 'sister', Honey, our other dog. Honey is smaller and older and not aggressive. When Leo gets overexcited, he is apt to attack Honey, lest she get more attention than he.

It rained hard, and long yesterday morning, with the result that Leo had panicked *slightly*- read, massively,- and came indoors covered to his ears in black mud, where he had tried to dig his way out of the garden, to escape the rain.

He was a sodden, muddy mess. Carpets were muddied, as was our clothing, when he greeted us with such relief, at our homecoming and opening of the door to 'inside haven'.

I proceeded to bath his sorry hide, curly coat,  and tried my best to dry him off, but he is a stubborn dog, and hair dryers are not his favourite items in life. Nor are clippers, scissors, or toenail trimmers.
He was having none of that, though fluffy curls did land on the floor, and attempts were made to tidy his woolly coat.

Gom decided, since he is somewhat inadequate at the bathing process, he needed to vacuum. I told him to leave it, I would deal with it all later.

Have you ever tried to 'tell' a Leo or a Gom, anything. It is like shouting at thunder. Totally ineffective.

I went out to the kitchen to have my lunch. I had heard the vacuum in the bedrooms.
I had seen the exhausted Gom, resting. I felt it safe to lunch in peace.

WRONG!

As I rinsed my lunch plate, I heard sickening thumps and thuds.
My stomach turned a full somersault. I felt like my chest would burst.

I rushed out, to see the spreadeagled figure of Gom lying on the tiles. At the foot of the stairs.
My first thought was that he was dead.
My second was that he must have broken something.
I raced down the stairs, amidst cords and bits of vacuum cleaner.
His legs moved.
He raised his head.
Blood poured forth.
Leo rushed in to lick the blood.

Truly, the stuff of nightmares!!

Gom spoke to me. Telling me he was ok,  but looking like a monster from hell. Blood streaming down his nose, his glasses ruined, on the floor.
His forehead bleeding where contact with the tiles had occured.
His nose hideously bruised, but, incredibly,  unbroken!

Incredibly, he has no broken bones. No seemingly lasting effects from his 'flight of fancy'.

After the initial horror of it all, we have tried to laugh. I can't begin to tell of the horror I felt when I first saw him. I must have a strong heart, because I did not have a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or faint.

We have tried to make jokes about it all. Very hard, in light of how I felt, when I saw the 'body' at the foot of the stairs.

But OMG did my body shake in terror!

I rang our daughter, for some support, in spite of rantings to the effect I was not to 'tell' anyone.


I truly hate this disease, that has robbed me of the husband I had.

I hate the changes to his personality, that are part of it all.
I know there are worse diseases. I should be grateful he does not have dementia, or Alzheimers like his mother.
But there are parts of this disease that manifest in similar manner. The sudden rages, over nothing.
The hideous stubbornness.  The irrational outbursts.
I struggle to keep a mind, and a sense of reason.

Morty provides some much needed relief. I love his little body, his sleek fur, & his ready purr.

I also love his disdain, and refusal to acknowledge current worries.!

Morty continues to keep me somewhat sane.
Today our Daughter came to visit her wounded father.
What an odd man he can be.
He craves the visits, yet acts distant.
Another mainfiestation of his 'condition'.

Albert Hammond. It never Rains in Souther California.
Gom used to love this song.