We went out with a bang...

Or a fizzle.

Or maybe even a sizzle.

Yeah... I'm afraid that "sizzle" will have to stand.

Because that's what we got.

We were all ready to head out to a New Years Eve barbecue at about 6:30 last night...

The potato salad for 20 was all ready and waiting,

the cherry Stollen was wrapped and ready to go,

( Not my pic, I'm afraid, because my batteries were flat... so I borrowed this one from HERE. Same place I got the recipe from.)

And besides having yummy treats, I was freshly showered and ready to partay... and miracle of miracles, I had actually slapped on some war paint.
(I stuck the mascara wand in my eye though, which just goes to show that me and war paint don't get along too good. Maybe we would if I used it more often, but I'm afraid that I'm just not a "fixy" woman. I'll practice between now and 2020 though.)

Anyway, I was just sitting here waiting for the Old Guy to show up, when he rang me from his house.
Seems there was a major bush fire just down the road from him, and evacuations were taking place. He was alright for the time being, but if the wind changed, he - and the entire neighborhood - would have been in some serious strife.
Well, that's what I got from the phone call anyway.
But because the air tankers and spotter planes were coming in directly over his house, I could only hear bits and pieces of what he was yelling into the phone.
It was just enough to get my heart racing, anyway.

We were going to the NYE barbecue with friends, (Lee-Loubelle and her husband) and luckily they had stopped by here first... so they drove me straight on out to the Old Guys place.
And if I had had a better idea of what was going on when he called, I would have had a heart turn in the first place.

You could actually see the flames from his front veranda... probably close to 75 people were standing at the end of the lookout from his house... and Elvis (or a look-alike - or maybe it was even Priscilla) was performing water carting duties, along with another huge tanker chopper and a couple of smaller ones.

Luckily, there are holding ponds for sucking up water - just for this purpose - down the embankment at the nature reserve... straight down at the end of his street.
Literally, five houses away.

Close enough that we could actually see the pilots faces, as they came in for water.

(this is literally what we watched for over 2 hours... it was actually this close!)

The wind was whipping from the cool change coming through... and it was whipping because of the fires, and the helicopters hovering overhead ... The smoke was so thick at times, that it was hard to see what was going on, and the sounds of the fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, along with the fire-fighting aircraft... Well, it was literally deafening. And scary as hell.

(Word on the scanner last night was, 2 police officers and possibly a 3rd had died when the wind changed and the smoke was too thick for them to find their way out of danger. But luckily, the online newspaper didn't say a word this morning about anyone being injured or killed. So I'm praying that it was just a rumor)

Anyway... we ended up going to the barbecue in spite of the fire, mainly because it was just a few blocks away and we could still keep a very close eye on things... and besides that, I had enough tater salad, to feed a small army.
But shortly after getting there, the rain started.
A good soaking rain started bucketing down, along with hail, which went a long ways towards helping with the fire.

But sometimes with the good, comes the bad...
And the bad was that there was lots of lightning with it.. and it ended up starting numerous spot fires in the same general area.
Luckily though, with the helicopters and planes already there on the scene, most (but not all) of the spot fires were quickly contained pretty quickly.

We ended up coming home early - at about 9 o'clock - mainly because quite frankly, neither of us were in a very celebratory mood, even though the heavy rain had calmed things right down.
And as we drove home, the smoke was still as thick as molasses, and most of the roads in the area were still cordoned off.
It was pretty eerie, let me tell you... with thick brown/black smoke and the hazy, barely-seen flashing lights from all the emergency personnel.
There was just no way that we could completely focus on what we were actually seeing - it was all that surreal.

So... 2009 went out with a definite sizzle last night.
But luckily, no serious damage was done. At least that we know about.

But here's to a drama-free, safe, sane, healthy, trouble free, and happy 2010 for ALL of us!

My New Years Resolution

“You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

~~Mahatma Ghandi~~

That's it.

Pure and simple.

It's easy to carry on and on, and come up with resolutions and promises to myself and others that will never come to fruition.

But when you boil it right down to what "I" want out of my life in this next year... my resolution... that's it

"I" must be the change that "I" want to see.

"I" want to make a difference.

No matter how inconsequential the difference, no matter how unimportant to others that difference is, no matter how small the difference... "I" just want to make a difference.

Happy New Years Everyone!

Gone bananas...

See, for some unknown reason, I seriously, seriously over-estimated the use of fresh bananas around here last week. ( maybe because every single, stinkin' kid brought their own bananas in their lunchbox, eh?)

And because of it, I've got bananas coming out my ears.

Sadly, there's only so much you can do with bananas.

I know.

Because I've tried.

I've baked banana breads, until the smell is making me nauseous.

I've made banana puddings. (and without 'Nilla Wafers, it's just not right)

I've made crepes with banana cream topping.

I've made smoothies.

I've made sliced bananas in rum-custard sauce.

I've made fruit salad that consists of 98% bananas... and an apple thrown in for good measure.

And to tell you the truth... I'm sick of 'em.

Luckily, I found that if you get really, really cranky and throw bananas under the trees, hoping that some neighborhood animal will cart them off, it makes the Parrots and Honey-Eaters flock in for a feed.

This will be my last attempt at using the damned stinkin' bananas ... and after that, the birds can have the 3 that will be left.

~~~~

Banana Charlotte

(A banana dessert recipe with ripe bananas, gelatin, sugar, vanilla, orange juice, and heavy cream.)

Ingredients:
1 tablespoon unflavored gelatin
2/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup water
4 large ripe bananas, mashed
juice of 2 oranges, about 2/3 to 1 cup
1/2 cup heavy cream

Preparation:
In a saucepan, combine gelatin, sugar, vanilla, and water.

Stir over medium heat until dissolved.

Add bananas and orange juice.

Mix well and chill until cold but not set.

Whip cream until stiff. Fold into banana mixture; chill thoroughly before serving.

~~~~

Hmmm....I wonder if the birds would like some Banana Charlotte for a change??

Because I honestly think that I've reached my saturation point.

Christmas was wonderful!

Well, we had a lovely, low-key, laid-back Christmas around here, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Now when I say "laid-back', I mean it... to the point that the Old Guy spent most of Christmas morning at his house, painting the lounge room.
As you do, when you've been a bachelor for most of your life and never really got into the swing of all things Christmas.

But that's okay with me, because when you've lost two children and the other one is a million miles away, the quiet contemplation time on Christmas morning is ideal, as far as I'm concerned.

We ended up going to a friends for Christmas dinner late in the day, and it too was low-key and laid-back... so all in all, it was a perfect day!

I didn't put up a tree this year, because with a constantly changing houseful of kids and 6 cats running amok, I learned a long time ago that it just isn't worth the hassles.
But there were still plenty of decorations and signs of Christmas around the place, and to tell you the truth, it was one of the best, most relaxing Christmas' that I've spent, in a long, long time!

May the rest of the Christmas season be joyous and bright for you, and may 2010 find you healthy, happy and prosperous !!

Mary Did You Know

I love Christmas...
Because I've already received the perfect gift.

Wishing each and every one of you, a very Merry Christmas, and all the Blessings of the Season!

Why today of all days?

I've actually taken the day off work today... I called both my daycare parents last night (2 children each) because I was feeling a bit (okay, more than just a bit) whoopsie in the tummy... but whether it's the actual gastro-like stuff that's been making the rounds around town, or just a few too many Christmas candies and treats, I can't tell you.

Well, I do have my suspicions... but I'm not telling.

Which just gave it away, didn't it?

So here I have a lovely, child-free day ahead of me, and blogger isn't cooperating with me !

Oh, I can get my own blog up, but when it comes to clicking on anyone elses, I'm just getting perpetual loading and nothing else... And it's frustrating as heck!

I've 'refreshed'.
I've re-loaded the whole page.

I've gone out and I've come back in.
I've turned ol' Bessie here off and back on again several times.
And still nuthin'.
I can see me, but I can't get to you.

I was really looking forward to doing some blog reading and catching up with y'all today, but if blogger doesn't come up to snuff very soon, I guess I'll just end up doing the Christmas shopping that I've been putting off.

No... never mind.

I don't dare leave home.

Because I've got a whoopsie tummy.

(Note to Santa: Can we change those laundry baskets, to buckets, instead?)

Ho Ho Hum...

Update:

Smacking the modem and calling it nasty names does work. One smack, and suddenly I'm among friends again!

Dear Santa

Santa, I know that I'm a little late with sending you this letter, but since you know who's been naughty or nice, I'm pretty sure that you've been keeping a close on on my house... and surely you've got an inkling of what's been going on around here lately.
It's been a madhouse, and the school holidays haven't even started yet, so I'm pretty sure you can guess what it will be like around here starting next week.
So hence... the lateness in getting this to you.
Better late than never, I always say.

First of all, I want to thank you for taking my phone call the other day, when little "J" was acting like an addle-pated banshee.
One simple phone call to you, had the kid smarten right up... and he even helped pick up the toys strewn all over the lounge room without being asked twice - or even thrice. (which is usual for him, as you well know)
You're a life-saver, so thank you for reminding me to put your phone number on speed dial.
I'm sure I'll be making use of it again, in the next couple of weeks.

Anyway, here's my wish list for Christmas...
(in no particular order - and as usual, I don't want everything listed... but it will at least give you some ideas for my one, lone gift... eh?)

1. Replacement cushions for the outdoor lounge suite. (five are needed, and anything that will semi-match the patio chairs would be fine. I'm not fussy.)
   
   
2. Pruning shears for the garden. I know I have some new ones somewhere, but I can't remember where I left them. I hate to be picky, but can you make sure that they're expensive, rubber coated handled ones? I blister easily.
   
   
3. A tooth implant. I'm pretty sure that I broke another back molar on Rubies darn chocolate coated coffee beans, and although I don't mind missing one back tooth, missing two is out of the question.
   
   
4. A "No Junk Mail" sticker for my mailbox. I hate junk mail, but I suspect that one of my "I don't get the advertising papers at my house" friends yanked my last sticker off.
   
   
5. A curtain rod for the patio window. Anything is fine. As long as it holds the ugly curtains that the Old Guy gave me, I'll be happy.
   
   
6. Some of that Age-Reversal face cream. You know, the stuff that makes your face instantly look like a baby's bum... instead of a wino's arse? A 44 gallon drum of it, please.
   
   
7. 2 new cat-litter trays with 'odor-control" hoods. The darn cats peed in the last ones, and they need replacing.
   
   
8. A gift voucher for "Sue, the Hairdresser". I need a color job bad, because I'm starting to be mistaken for Mrs. Claus, and I think a brighter, more youthful color, (rather than the gray) will kind of take the focus off my 'bowl-full-of-jelly" belly. That's my theory, anyway. No offense intended, but it might do wonders for your image as well.
   
   
9. Laundry baskets. Like maybe half a dozen? They come in real handy for throwing junk in, when unexpected guests arrive. On second thought... make it an 'even dozen', please.
   
   
10. Patience. Never-ending patience would be nice, but any amount will do.
    
    
11. A lawnmower. Preferably an ex-male-dancer one.
    
    
12. Shelving for the the shed. To store 100 toilet paper rolls from Costco, and the like.
    
    
13. That wall plaster stuff for putting up walls in the shed, so that it can be turned into a combination storage and guest sleeping area. And then I'll need attractive paint as well, so that people will want to sleep in my converted garden shed.
    
    
14. A bicycle. Preferably a lovely old blue Schwinn like I had when I was a kid. You know the one... with wide fenders, a fat seat, and a basket on the front. Bell optional. I want to relive my youth, before I get too stiff. I think they call them beach bikes now, but I'm not sure. Just check your old records... from about 1962-64, I think.
    
    
15. Ice skates. So that I can con Miz K into going ice skating with me when we go to Costco. I used to be good and I coulda been a contender, but nowadays, maybe something with training blades would be a good. (do they make those?)
    
    
16. Books. Now this one is easy. Basically, anything with words printed on a page is excellent. (except training manuals, please) Something where I can close my eyes (figuratively speaking of course, or I wouldn't be able to read, now would I?) and be transported into another world. Preferably this world, as sci-fi doesn't do too much for me.
    
    
17. One of those fancy new, big, skinny arse tv's that get all the channels. I know... I already have a tv that works just fine and I'm quite happy to get up to change channels, since one of the kids flushed my remote, but I'm just adding this in, in case you don't have any of my other requests in stock.
    
    
18. Sheets for my bed. At least 2 sets please, so I don't have to wash, dry and put the same ones back on the bed again. And please, no sports printed ones. I made the mistake of telling the Old Guy that I found the red-striped baseball sheets at JC Penny's, adorable. And they are... but just not on my bed.
    
    
19. Placemats for the patio table (semi-matching the current or new cushions - and preferably in plastic, for ease of wiping.)
    

Okay, I know that the list is rather long this year, but I'm just giving you options, okay? If none of the above items are available, I'm quite happy with my usual stand-by of

"Peace on Earth, and Goodwill towards all mankind".

In fact, please disregard the entire list, and just give me that last one.

It's easier to share with others.

Tis the Season...

To be tired.

Dog-tired.

(that term actually makes little or no sense to me, because my dogs always slept with one eye open and barked at a mouse-fart. Unless burglars were involved... and then I think they just feigned sleep, just so they wouldn't have to get up and actually do anything dangerous.)

Kind of like the photo of like this dog, which a burglar actually took whilst ransacking a house.


But I digress...

Tis the season, but not for the reasons you would expect.

For me, it has more to do with the upcoming school holidays and all the prep work that has to go into that, rather than the actual Christmas thing.
I haven't even started Christmas shopping yet, and to tell you the truth... I may not do it this year anyway.
Cards are the same.

Not that I don't want to, but it's more of a financial issue this year, and with our upcoming trip to the US in April ( and time off work, which means no $$'s coming in for at least 5 weeks) I just don't have a lot of spare cash laying around right now.
Like I ever have had spare cash laying around.
When you're buying your own home, spare cash seems to be a thing of the past.


And then several friends have had birthdays this month - including a couple of momentous ones like 50th's and 60th's - so there have been parties to attend, gifts to buy for those and all the socializing that goes with it.
Not that I'm much of a socializer at the best of times, because I'm not.
Give me small groups of people - and close friends at that - and I'm fine with that.
But when there are dozens and dozens of people around, and people I don't know at all... well, just look behind the potted palms, if you want to find me.


And drinking? Ho Ho Hum. Maybe I'll have one or two, but I swear I haven't had a hangover or even anything close to a hangover, in a couple of decades now.

Because I'm boring.

And because let's face it. When you're hiding behind potted palms, catching the eye of a passing waiter so you can ask for another drink, well... it's next to impossible
(Yeah right, like I attend parties that actually have waiters? Garth Brooks said it best when he said "I've got friends in low places"... and I like it that way.)


So anyway, (I'm real good at this digressing stuff this morning, aren't I? But I have a good excuse, because I'm dog tired.) we attended a 50th birthday party on Saturday night, but luckily, it was one of my dearest friends.
And not only does she know what I'm like, I had my lad with Autism with me, so I had plenty of quiet-time tomyself while I took him off to look at the sheep pen and such, to calm him down.
And when the kid needs to go to bed, it's time to head home... so we were all tucked in by midnight.


Then on Sunday, we had a small barbeque here at home, with another dear friend and her daughter down from Bendigo... (and 4 of my daycare kids as well), but they had to head home by 3-ish, (my friend - not the kids, unfortunately) so even though it was an enjoyable visit, it was short lived.
Too short lived.
Because when it comes to Rubies, I never want us to part. Because the sharing of chocolate is always involved, when Rubies is around.

Which is why I love her so much.
Mainly, anyway.

So, between working 6 days straight, (and I had some kids 24 hrs a day) the party Saturday night, and then the barbeque on Sunday, I was so worn out by early evening, that I sat down in my chair to watch some telly... and I fell dead asleep.

The kind of 'dead-asleep" that means you never wake up all night, and when you wake up in the chair in the morning, your right ear is resting on your shoulder, the front of your shirt is absolutely soaked from 7 hours of drooling on yourself because you were dreaming of Sam Elliot... and you can't get up out of said chair, because of the damn crick in your neck. Which can present some tricky problems, when the first thing on your mind is "I gotta pee, NOW!"
(Which I still have, despite a couple of painkillers, a hot shower and a few cups of coffee. The neck of course.. not the pee.
And you'll notice that I used "you" rather than "I"... because it kind of distances myself from having to admit to myself that I was an idiot for not just going to bed when I wanted to, in the first place.)


So... "Party Animal"?
Nope, that's not really me.
Unless we're talking sloths, or something extremely slow moving.


Yep, I've got it... I'm "Tater, the Partying Porcupine."

This thing called love...

And no, it isn't what you're thinking.

I'm not talking about "romantic" kissy kissy love...
But rather the love of all things blog related.

Blogging, reading blogs, becoming invested in the lives of people whom I have never met (yet)... googling photos and coming up with blogs I never would have come across if I hadn't first searched for "wildflowers in Uzbecistan", or "grandmas mayo and chili cake".
And getting totally sucked in.

But alas, my love affair has been suffering lately.
Seriously.

Not that it's ever far from my mind, mind you.

See, I can weed and garden til the cows come home, and think up some fantastic blog material.
I can scrub counter tops to rid it of ant footprints and scrape blackened breadcrumbs from the toaster... and whilst doing those boring chores, I can think of wonderful, insightful, earth-shatteringly funny stuff to blog about.

Only I forget it, later.
I sit down, and there's a vast window in my brain, which as soon as my arse hits the chair, the window opens and lets all the good stuff out.
Which leaves me with the boring, spur of the moment, mind-numbingly inane stuff.

It's kind of like opening a telephone directory and letting your fingers do the walking... and just seeing after your fingers have been busy, what you've actually come up with.
Like 'pick a card. Any card'.

Which in my case, is crap.

What I wanted to do with this whole blogging thing, was to get my thoughts and memories down on the proverbial paper as it were... so that my grandsons would some day read through it and think "Wow, Grummie was a hoot and a half in her day, wasn't she?" "Grummie had a great life and some great adventures in her day." "Grummie was cool".

Yep...cool is what I was aiming for.
Sort of.

Because my 3 little guys mean the world to me... and because we're so far apart, it makes it hard to convey to them just exactly "who" this woman called "Grummie" really is.
What made her tick.
Because I didn't want to be simply the giver of gifts and cards and money to these guys. I wanted them to know "me" - like I never got to know my mama or nana's thoughts.
(and besides... whoever knew that I could fall so deeply and irrevocably in love, with 3 little boys that I have only met once in my life for two weeks?)

Unfortunately, they'll probably read it through and think " geez...we should have invested in a home for Grummie a long, long time ago... But who knew that she would have lost her marbles at such an early age?"

But that's not the point. It was supposed to be... but somewhere along the line, other factors came into consideration.

Stuff like friendships formed, and seeds planted.
Ideas for doing this, or cooking or baking that.
Thinking 'I can do that if she can, because she's made it sound so wonderfully inviting that I would be a complete and total idjit if I don't try it too.'

Wondering on any given day what Mary or Sally have been up to, and wondering and waiting for the bits and blobs of their lives to be blogged about.
So that I can laugh or cry, right along with them.
Caring and sharing.
Because I've grown to care.
(Not that there is a real "Mary or Sally"... it's just easier than typing a 101 names, ya know what I mean?)

Because somehow, this has ended up being about you.
Not me.
Your lives.
Your stories.
Your friendships.

So this blogging thing hasn't exactly ended up being the "thing" I was aiming for.
But because of you, (and who knew you were even out there?) it's become so much more.

And I'm grateful to you.

~~~~~
Geez... would ya look at that?
I started off with one thing in mind and ended up going off on a tangent ... completely forgetting where I was heading with this.
What I meant to say was that I have these absolutely terrific ideas for posts - and then I get so side-tracked reading your terrific posts, that I lose track of what I was thinking about posting about.
Because you're far more interesting than me.
And for that... I'm grateful.

Because, if it's true that you're judged by the company you keep, my grandsons will think that I've had a wonderful life.... now won't they?

Just shoot me

Please.

Woke yesterday morning at unGodly hour (3:10) with massive migraine headache.
Took tablets and drank copious amounts of coffee, because needed to go to Costco with a friend, to buy party foods for her birthday.

During hour and twenty minute drive, regretted drinking copious amounts of coffee, and that truck is not equipped with vomitorium.
Took more tablets.
Later, felt somewhat better, and had a lovely dinner of Caesar salad, finished with Rocky Road ice cream.

Went to bed early, rather than watch Two and a Half Men on telly, with sunglasses on.
Not Two and a Half Men wearing sunglasses... me.
Because flickering telly light hurts my head.

Woke this morning at 2am, with head again threatening to split and spill brains all over pillow.

Got up, took more tablets and am again in the process of drinking copious amounts of coffee.
But thankful for having toilet nearby this time.
For various reasons.

Then lightbulb in head went off. Creating even more pain.

Chocolate. Chocolate in Rocky Road ice cream.
Which I ate, 2 nights running.
Cheap chocolate causes me to have migraines.

Which causes me to speak in short, terse sentences.
Like this.

So I ask you again...
Please shoot me.

Please.

What a week THAT was..

Why is it, that things can be rolling along nicely, and you think that life is just great... Then suddenly there's nothing but bumps in the road, everywhere you turn?

Oh, nothing major, and nothing worth getting into a tizzy about, but it just seems that there has been one mini-drama after another, all week long... and even the good stuff has been somewhat dramatical.
(is "dramatical" even a word? Well, if it isn't, it should be.
Because I said so.


Last Friday saw me tearing out my hair over my young lad with autism, because he's been in a teenager-ish kind of mood lately... and here I thought it couldn't get much worse.

But it did.

See, 'young lad' is becoming a man, and because of that, he's discovered the joys of, ahem...
Well, I think you can figure out what I'm saying here.
Or rather what I'm not saying.
Because I'm not saying it.

Luckily, I managed to get an emergency cleaner in... and those guys were fantastic! They dealt with it all, in hardly any time at all... they didn't bat an eyelash when I explained what was on the walls and curtains...
Plus, they even went so far as to come back at the end of the day and steam clean the rest of the carpets throughout the whole house.
Not that the carpets were affected, but hey, when someone else is paying... why not?


I would recommend those cleaners to anyone.
If I could just remember who they were.

Then Monday found us heading to the travel agents, to book our trip to the US... so I've been doing the proverbial "happy dance" all week.
The flights are all paid for, and I'm rarin' to go... but there's one little niggley bit that we haven't worked out yet.

Well maybe two... if you count not yet having informed my son that we're coming.

See, we're bringing a friend with us, because her husband has finally decided that after all these years of her being a rabid Elvis fan, (if there's a word that means more rabid-er than just plain rabid, feel free to insert it here) as well as cooking his meals and scrubbing his unmentionables, that she's entitled to finally see Graceland.
(Well not Elvis' meals and jocks. Although I doubt if you would hear her complain about doing anything for him.
I meant her husbands dinners and undies.)

Now, we're having a hard time figuring out flight prices from San Francisco to Memphis, but I guess we have a little bit of time to get the details worked out, since we aren't even heading over until April 10th.
Except for the fact that we've already reserved a room at to Elvis' Heartbreak Hotel on a certain date.
Like you do.
Especially when you put the cart before the horse and you're about to culminate a lifelong dream.
Well, to be honest, it's her dream... not necessarily mine, but hey, why not see Graceland while we can, eh?

Anyway, it's been a hell of a week around here, and I'm glad to finally have the weekend off.

All the more time to bore you with the minutia of my life, eh?

Zombie Chickens... oh my goodness!

Now admit it.. You were expecting some sort of scary, sordid, spine-tingling tale about walking, "undead" chickens weren't you?

Or a review of the cult classic,"Poultrygeist", perhaps?
Or even my pitifully sung rendition of "Poultry in Motion"?


Alas... no.


It's an award!

An award that was, ahem... awarded to me, by none other than Ladybird World Mother.

And just like Ladybird World Mother, I have a habit of saving the awards awarded to me by my lovely fellow bloggers, and sticking them in a folder on my desktop, for when I get around to doing them justice.


Which just goes to show that I am incredibly slack.
Not ungrateful, just... slack.


I have yet to do justice to the last 4 awards that I've recieved... So if you've been kind to me and awarded me with something , and it seems that I haven't paid much attention... well please know that I'm just hopeless.
Not uncaring.

My accountant, and the girls in the office would agree with me.
And that may very well be the reason that I am seldom paid on time.

Now that I've shared my shameful little secret with ya'll...

On to the award!!!

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.
These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all."



Now, I was going to just post this award and leave it as a sort of free-for-all for anyone to grab... but after reading it through, it seems that I'll incur the wrath of the dreaded zombie chickens if I don't personally select 5 recipients.


So rather than risk the wrath of undead, zombified poultry, I'm selecting 5 fellow bloggers to award this lovely little gem to.

And I'm doing it semi-scientifically.

By closing my eyes and stabbing at the blogger list on my compter screen.


So, without further ado, here goes:


1. Reddirt Woman. You'll smile, you'll cry, you'll laugh your patootie off!
But this girl just doesn't talk dirt... She gets absolutely covered in mud... and she posts the photos to prove it! And her tootsies? Gorgeous!
And anyone who takes photos of men in chaps... *sigh* Well, that makes her aces in my book!


2. Modern Day Ozzie and Harriet. Marjie can single-handedly take the blame for the size of my arse... because if she posts a recipe, I just have to try it! Thanks to her recipe, I now make my own mayo, and it beats Best Foods hands down! The woman can cook !! And the best part is, she's down-to-earth and talented.. and just a lovely person to spend some time with.
And her Thor? Omigosh, I want one of him!



3. Coffee with the Hermit is a newfound treasure... And if you stop on by, HermitJim will make you feel right at home - and he's already got the coffee pot ready and waiting for y'all...


4. sidewalk shoes ... Pam is just a sweetheart. and I always love sitting down and having a good gander at what she's written. But be prepared to drool... the photos alone, are to die for!
Not that the weekend cat blogging photos make me want to drool... but they do make me smile!


5. The Mosquitoes Buzz ... Bz is... well, what can I say? She's funny, delightful, open and honest... and the girls in her family are all a treat!
( and make sure you check out her mama's blog while you're there!)
Plus, she's got great pins!



Okay... that concludes my "semi-scientifically chosen " five recipients.

But I have more.


No, I'm not going to list them here, but if you ever get a chance, check out all the folks on my blog list.
They're all worth a read. Each and every one of 'em.
And who knows?
You might just find another blog to add to your list!

I'm not alone anymore...

I just made up a new word.
Someone call Funk and Wagnells for me, please...

Feedjitiot


"Feedjitiot"
definition: A crazy person who's absolutely addicted to checking out her feedjit.

And that makes her a bit of an idiot.
An idiot who has no life.

Because this particular little feedjitiot is doing her damn best not to do any housework today.
Or do anything constructive, for that matter.
Like doing last nights dinner dishes, (I didn't really say that out loud, did I?) or removing the towels from the dryer.
So, I just love checking out the feedjit thingie when I'm killin' time... mainly because I love seeing who may have popped in, where they popped in from, whether or not they left a comment, and I love seeing what (or who) may have led them here...

And sometimes the results worry me.
Now I can understand that there are other Crisco devotees out there... but are they devotees for the same reasons that I am?
I sort of suspect not, if some of the entries are anything to go by.

And I can also understand someone googling stuff like "chocolate ripple cake" or "scary Aussie animals", because I've done it myself...
But who in the world would ever think of googling "Crisco for dry eyes" or sexschop crisco"?
Or even "you know I love my Old Guy, right?"

Now here, for your viewing pleasure (or not, depending on how much of a life you may have) is a list of what's come in the the last 24 hours.
And it makes me scratch my head.

(I did edit it down a bit though... since I'm kind of focusing on the weird and wacky here.
Not that Ladybird World Mother is the least bit wacky, but please click on her anyway, because if you haven't read her blog before... I can almost guarantee she'll make your day.
And besides... it will give you a wonderful excuse for not doing your particular household chores.
You'll thank me.
I know you will :)

~~~~~

London arrived from ladybirdworld.blogspot.com on "Tatersmama's take on things".
06:58:28 -- 8 minutes ago

Amsterdam, Noord-Holland arrived from images.google.nl on "Tatersmama's take on things: You know I love my Old Guy... right?".
05:32:54 -- 1 hour 34 mins ago

Sosnowiec, Katowice arrived from google.pl on "Tatersmama's take on things: My (not so ) Secret Crisco Obsession" by searching for sexschop crisco.
05:17:13 -- 1 hour 49 mins ago

Milan, Lombardia arrived from r1rk9np7bpcsfoeekl0khkd2juj27q3o.friendconnect.gmodules.com on "Tatersmama's take on things".
22:16:53 -- 8 hours 50 mins ago

Melbourne, Victoria arrived from google.com.au on "Tatersmama's take on things: Quick and Easy Aussie recipe... Chocolate Ripple Cake".
22:00:28 -- 9 hours 6 mins ago

Montgomery, Alabama arrived from google.com on "Tatersmama's take on things: My (not so ) Secret Crisco Obsession" by searching for crisco for dry eyes.
15:07:05 -- 16 hours ago

Sydney, New South Wales arrived from google.com.au on "Tatersmama's take on things: Quick and Easy Aussie recipe... Chocolate Ripple Cake".
14:06:04 -- 17 hours 1 min ago

Soddy Daisy, Tennessee arrived from google.com on "Tatersmama's take on things: Who ever said I was PC?".
12:28:15 -- 1 hour 20 mins ago
(This one has absolutely nothin' to do with anything.... other than I love the name "Soddy Daisy"... ain't it great?)

Gosford, New South Wales arrived from images.google.com on "Tatersmama's take on things: Quick and Easy Aussie recipe... Chocolate Ripple Cake".
10:12:33 -- 3 hours 36 mins ago

Melbourne, Victoria arrived from google.com.au on "Tatersmama's take on things: Quick and Easy Aussie recipe... Chocolate Ripple Cake".
10:01:13 -- 3 hours 47 mins ago

Wageningen, Gelderland arrived from google.nl on "Tatersmama's take on things: My (not so ) Secret Crisco Obsession" by searching for another use for crisco.
02:58:04 -- 10 hours 50 mins ago

South Melbourne, Victoria arrived from google.com.au on "Tatersmama's take on things: Quick and Easy Aussie recipe... Chocolate Ripple Cake".
15:37:56 -- 22 hours 11 mins ago

Baldwin Park, California arrived from images.google.com on "Tatersmama's take on things: My (not so ) Secret Crisco Obsession".
13:39:15 -- 1 day ago

Birmingham, Alabama arrived from images.google.com on "Tatersmama's take on things: Watch out! It'll get ya! (for my Grandsons!)".
10:49:35 -- 1 day 2 hours ago


Okay. Now go do your chores.

And while you're doing them, ponder my sad, obsessed and empty life.
Feedjitiot that I am....

Who ever said I was PC?

My friend Helen sent this to me... and it just hit a nerve.

See, I had another carer around for coffee the other day, and she spied my box of Christmas decorations sitting by the table.
She then asked me if I planned on using the big window banner that says "Merry Christmas",
and I told her I was.

She then went into this whole big spiel about how - here in daycare at least - that we're supposed to say "Happy Holidays", instead of "Merry Christmas'.
Rather than offend anyone, don't ya know...

And I told her that while we were so busy 'not offending' other people, that I was being offended myself... by having to deny my beliefs.
Because see, I believe in Christ. (and he believes in me)
I celebrate his coming into the world... because I'm a believer.

It doesn't matter to me what you believe, but please... don't tell me to deny Christ.
Because I won't.
I don't cram my beliefs down anyones throat... and I sure as hell don't tell them that they're wrong for believing in whatever it is that they believe in.

But around here? In my own home?
Jesus is the 'reason for the season'... at least in this household.






We've been told not to say "Ho Ho Ho", because some people might find it offensive.
Too bad...

We've been told to say "Father Christmas" instead of Santa Claus...
Too bad.

Hey, you can say what you want to say, and you can believe what you want to believe...
because I'm easy that way.
I certainly don't ask anyone to deny their beliefs, just because I may not necessarily believe the same thing they do.
I "judge not".

But around here, Christ is King.

Daunted. That's me

Y'all know what undaunted is... right?

The dictionary defines it as: : courageously resolute especially in the face of danger or difficulty : not discouraged.

Well, I'm here to tell you that that isn't me at all.

I am totally and completely daunted, when it comes to this backyard of mine... and I'm seriously thinking of having the entire area covered in cement and painted green.

Because cement doesn't breed.

Cement doesn't spread seeds which keep popping up no matter what you do to them, birds can't eat it and then poop it out somewhere else so that the whole cycle starts all over again, and cement would more than likely save the Old Guys life.

Because when it comes to weeding, we're not on the same page at all.

I'm a puller-outer and want that old dirt to be as bare and weedless as an egg, ready for planting the new stuff.

I even like pulling out the cooch grass (couch? I dunno, it's the stuff with runners and roots that go halfway across the garden and Lord help you if you break one of those suckers off, because 47 more sprout in it's place.)

So I want it gone and will go to any lengths to get it out.

But the Old Guy? Well, he's a ripper-outer... and he leaves little sprigs of weed/nasty grass crap sticking out everywhere, so all it takes is a little morning dew to get the suckers up and sprouting again.

To me, it isn't weeded, when it's all just been ripped off an inch above ground level.

But he sure as heck can carry on like he's done something wonderful for me, while he wipes his sweaty brow and demands a cool drink for his intensive, back-breaking labors.

And dirt?

If anything he pulls out of the ground has the slightest dusting of dirt on it, he has to whack it on the ground, to save the precious soil from getting dumped in the compost bin.

The problem with that is, that while he's busy whacking the dirt off, all the 11 hundred zillion seeds come off with the dirt... and land right back where the mama weed came from in the first place.

And the cycle continues...

Hire a gardener? Did I hear you say hire a gardener?

Well honey, I've done that.

Three different times.

First, there was Alex.

Alex was a honey, and he was good at what he did.

Unfortunately, he looked like this :

(Just imagine this guy in tight little short-shorts... and all sweaty. Oh, and minus the cuffs.)

He was an ex "Thunder From Down Under" dancer. No word of a lie.
The problem was, that all my clients and friends would just "happen to drop by" on Wednesday afternoons, and it got to the point where I could have quit doing childcare and simply made a fortune charging an admission price.
I would have 15-20 women in my backyard when I was trying to run a business here... and well, it just didn't work out.
Besides, my heart couldn't take it anyway.

Then there was Elvis.
I kid you not. His name was Elvis Presley.
I'm pretty sure that his mother didn't name him Elvis, and his daddy wasn't a Presley, but he was a bit of a fan I guess ... and he had his name changed legally.

Elvis was good... and we were definitely in agreement when it came to weeding.
The only problem was, Elvis was "special needs", and had urinary incontinence problems to boot, so he was in and out of the house constantly to use the loo.
Then he would forget to close the back door when he went back out, and the children kept escaping.
Plus, childcare regulations state that any male over the age of 17 who comes into my household, has to have a current police clearance... and Elvis didn't understand that.

Then there was Clarry.
Bless his heart.
Clarry was so old that he couldn't bend down to do the weeding anymore, but he could still push the mower around.
The problem was, Clarry couldn't start the mower, so I would have to go out and do it for him, and then he would lean on it like a walker, and keep walking around in circles until the grass was all cut. Then I would have to go out and empty the catcher for him.
The problem with Clarry was, he charged by the hour... whereas Alex and Elvis charged a set amount.

One week, it would cost me $30, and the next, it could cost me $50... depending on how speedy he was.
But Clarry had a heart attack while mowing the neighbors grass and even though he wanted to come back once he was on his feet again, I didn't want him dropping dead in my yard.
Or anybodies yard for that matter.

So I'm gardener-less now.
Except for the Old Guy.

Lord have mercy on me...
Because I am daunted.

It was the best of times... it really was.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us...

(Charles Dickens, A Tale Of Two Cities)

Ahhh... the summer of 1969.

Was there ever any summer sweeter than that one?

His name was Jack... and he was my first love.

Not that I ever told him that... but to tell you the truth, I've spent the last 40 years regretting that I never said those words out loud.

Oh, I think he knew it, just like I knew how he felt.

But back in those days, it was all emotion between us... and maybe the actual words weren't even necessary, after all.

It was a summer love, and I guess in some ways, it was the truest, most innocent and the most touchingly beautiful relationship of my life.

Jack was the standard by which all future boys and men were judged... and to tell you the truth, most of them were found wanting.

I spent years looking for the same honesty, integrity and decency - not to mention heart-stopping good looks - in other boys, and later on in my life, men.

But I never found it again.

Oh, eventually, I found a couple of 'good guys' and my life moved on, and it was good...

But as the years went by, I still checked phonebooks, or when I heard anyone who claimed to be from his town, I just had to ask, "Do you know Jack?"

I was never able to join any computer site like classmates.com or Reunion or even face book, without typing in his name.

And I always came up empty handed.

And empty hearted.

But then on Monday night, I received a message through one of those school sites, from a guy who claimed to be from my graduating class.

Only he wasn't.

It was him.

It was the him that I've been looking for and thinking of for these last 40 years.

And I discovered that he had been searching for me as well.

Wow... the memories have always been there, ya know?

But they came flooding back with an intensity that was almost painful.

Love found.

Love lost...

Dreams and hopes, and nights where we would sit and watch the lake and talk until the sun came up.

Days upon days spent together, holding hands everywhere we went... and just 'being' together.

Oh, nothings changed or is going to change...

The past is the past.

He's happily married now, I'm in a permanent relationship with the Old Guy... and neither one of us have any desire for anything to rekindle or change.

But the memories... you know what I mean?

How sweet it was...

Quality control...

*sigh*

It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it... right?

Not that I'm expecting hoards of little Bat Man's (bat men?) or Fairy Princesses - because here in Oz, Halloween is still a pretty novel concept to most.

But still... I like to be prepared, you know what I mean?

I had slightly more little Trick or Treaters last year, (maybe 6 or 7?) but for several years before that, I only had 3 teenage boys.
Boys who would come around several times in the one night, all dressed up as ... Well, who knows what.
But they were tryin'.
They really were.
And I think their efforts needed to be rewarded.

Last year though, it was just the one teen aged boy on his own, and his voice had deepened to the point where he sounded like a man... But his eyes still lit up like a little boys, when he saw the candy.
And it did my heart good.

But, have you noticed that some things never change?

45+ years may have gone by since I dressed up as Casper the Friendly Ghost or a Leprechaun... and the colors and flavors may have changed slightly over time, but for every 10 red or blue or green or pink Tootsie Pop, there's only one chocolate one!

So I saved the "brown ones" for myself.

I can't have the little monsters arguing over the chocolate ones, now can I?
Somebody might get their feelings hurt.

And Spider here?

This year, Spider's going out dressed as *The Blob*

Happy Halloween, ghouls and boys!

Eureka... part deux

I promise that this is the last time you'll have to read about my intimate apparel.
Or my bosoms.
For now anyway.

Remember my bra?
My favorite pink bra?
The one I couldn't find...so in order to go to Costco on Monday, I had to settle for an older, less favorite one?
Which is now too big.
I can now use the extra room in the too-big bra cups, to carry small cats around in now.
Thanks to Robynn and her bloody "30 Day Throw Down".

Well.
For the last few days, I have been smelling a nasty smell.
Not the cat pi** smell, but something far riper, and heavy... and grey smelling.

Like dead mouse or possum in the walls or roof.
A very vomit inducing smell.

A combination of rotted, dirty, fungus-riddled feet and 10 year old unwashed boy bum.
Mixed with a whiff of spoiled head cheese.
Very nasty.

So today, I decided to tear the laundry room apart and scrub everything within reach.
Just in case I needed to call one of those men who come and remove dead animals from the attic.

It's bad enough to have rotted animal smells wafting around, but I wanted the poor man to be dazzled with the cleanliness of my laundry room and think that I was an immaculate housekeeper.
Who just happened to have a dead animal in my roof.

Through no fault of my own, of course.

So I scrubbed.
I polished.
I washed shelves and lined them with new paper.
Arranged everything back on said shelves in a very eye-appealing manner.
Suzy Homemaker, am I.

Only the smell still lingered... and by now, it had me dry-retching.
But I was determined to finish the job, so I could go outside and draw in great draughts of fresh air.
So I finished with the walls and shelves, and got down on my hands and knees to scrub the laundry room floor.

Because the opinion of dead-rat removing men is very important to me.

After everything was finished, I opened the washer to throw the used rags inside, for a good soak.

And discovered dead rat in my washing machine.
Big gray lumpy bugger it was, with clouds of greeny-yellow gases of decomposition wafting from it.

Only it wasn't a rat.

Hello, soggy, smelly, definitely moldy bra... and assorted other unmentionables.

I wondered where you had gotten to.

Rather than throw them in the garbage bin, for the neighborhood dogs to find and share around the district, I'm giving them a good soak... in that laundry brightening stuff.

Fingers crossed.


Disclaimer:
Rather than waste my precious holidays washing untold am'ts of laundry, I did one big trip to the laundromat on Tuesday, doing all my towels, bedding, and clothes.
I'm really not all that slovenly.
Honest.

Pi** on it !!!

And I mean that literally.

Pi** on the door, pi** on the mat, pi** on the walls and bench and flower pots, and even pi** on the wooden bench on the front porch.

Because a male cat lives next door.

A cat with seemly endless reserves of cat pi**.



See, yesterday was a lovely day... warm, with just the right amount of breeze... and fragrant, from my beautiful Abraham Lincoln roses suddenly bursting into bloom.

So when I got up this morning, the first thing I did was open up the front door, to let the lovely, cool, sweet smelling morning breeze waft through the house.

And I almost gagged.

Bruce. Has. Been. Here.

Bruce. Who cost the neighbor a cool $800, because she wanted a Burmese male cat for breeding purposes.

Bruce. Who has the personality of a junk yard dog, and who has been known to have a go at me, even when I turn the water hose on him to chase him out of my yard because he's pi**ing on my front door or car tyres, right in front of my eyes.

Bruce. Who, when my cat got pregnant last year, seemly had had "the snip" and "oh my goodness, Brucey couldn't have been responsible, because he never goes outside."

Yet I had 2 half-Burmese kittens... and funnily enough, Bear has his daddy's build, his looks, his coloring... and his *yowl*

Now, I have nothing against cats at all.

I've got 5 of my own, plus a boarder... so who am I to talk?

But my cats are clean.

Mine are fixed, and have the ear tatts to prove it.

Well, except for the boarder cat - Spider -, who ended up going on a date when I wasn't looking... even though she was specifically forbidden to do so.

So, we're expecting babies any day now.

And Bruce thinks he's the daddy.

And Bruce wants all the other neighborhood males, as well as his "probable children" to know who's the boss around here...

I'm just so sick of it.

I spent hours out on the porch just 2 days ago... washing the walls, the screen door and front door, flower pots, shoe racks and the door mats with hot soapy water and then vinegar... finishing off with hydrogen peroxide to kill any residual bacteria that the other methods hadn't erased.

And then topped it all off with "Scat Away" which smells bad enough to make your nose hairs want to curl up and die.

But it's better than cat pi**

Way better than cat pi**.

But Bruce was back again last night...

And all I get from the neighbor is lies and denial.

Oh, Bruce is fixed.

Oh, Bruce stays indoors all night - or he's locked in his $2,000 cat run.

Oh, Bruce is just the sweetest little thing, and you must be making him angry if he runs at you, yowling and hissing his fool little head off.

Yeah right.

Pi** on it.

I'm hiring a cat trap.

Eureka! I found it!

Well not exactly the bra that I was searching for...

But lookee here at what my friend Marilyn sent me !

Some one else lost their bra as well... This one!

but luckily, the other woman sure found hers!!

In the unlikeliest of places...

Okay... enough of that. But admit it... I heard you tittering!

Anyhoo, I got the eye exam done at Costco yesterday, and I was thrilled with the results - if not the procedure. My eyes are almost perfect, with no glaucoma, no pressure and no problems with the macula. My vision has even actually improved - I swear, because of the eye exercises that I do semi-regularly. And that was all good.

But I want to know when I became "my age".

The guy started off by saying "at your age, this time we're going to test for a few extra things, okay?"... but I sure as hell don't understand when I became "this age".

I really don't.

Yeah, I feel and act somewhat more mature than I used to, and I sure as heck look somewhat older than I used to, but if the truth be told, I don't really feel any different.

It kind of frustrates me that here I am, happily living my life and going about my business, and behind my back, body parts are inexplicably going down-hill to the point where I'm now considered to be in a special age bracket, warranting special tests and extra prodding.

Nowadays, it's special eye tests... getting the ol' mammy's grammed every time you turn around... and every time you mention anything at all to a person in a white coat, they seem to want to test for arthritis or bunions or liver spots or hemorrhoids some other "age-related" crap.

It makes me want to clam right up, and not say a word to anyone anymore. Yeah, right. Like I can keep my mouth shut?

But... the good news is that the complete eye exam with all the special new tests, with frames, lenses and all the other doo-dads that they did to me and gave to me, only cost me $178. all up.

My last pair of glasses, 4 years ago, with *buy one pair and get another one free* deal, cost me well and truly over 500 bucks! That's probably what aged me, right there. If I now have liver spots or hemorrhoids, it's probably thanks to the last eye doctor I saw.

So, with all the money I saved, I shopped.

I mean, I was as Costco, baby! What else is a girl supposed to do?

Have you seen my bra?

We're heading to Costco this morning...
Mainly to get my eyes checked, and to order new glasses. but I'm pretty sure that I'll spend a dollar or two while we're there.

The only problem is, I can't find my favorite bra anywhere.
Mainly because I took it off last week and haven't looked for it since.

Lordy... I just love holidays... don't you?

Stand by me...

Well, it's been a bit of a bummer weekend... blogging wise.
Blogger wouldn't let me in to post or comment, for most of the day yesterday, and today, it didn't want to allow me to post pics to go with my (upcoming) gardening post.

So just before heading off to bed, I decided to try and get in one more time...
And voila!
Here I am.
And you am.
Or whatever.


I just wanted to share this fantastic video with y'all... I've watched it dozens of times today and the more I watch, the more I'm inspired.
And amazed.
Flabbergasted, even...

Let's see if you catch what's going on... and how they did it.


Enjoy!







I just adore Grandpa Elliot!
What a talent, and what an inspiration!

I'm milkin' it...and workin' it

Noooo... Not the cow silly!
This being off work, and feeling that I have a life thing.

I do what I want, when I want... and I do it my way.

If I want to get up, I do.
If I want to lay down, I do that too.
If I want to scrub and clean, I get to do it at my own pace.
If I want to laze around and read trashy novels all day...
Well, you get the gist, right?

So today is going to be "run around and buy a load of crap for the yard" day, because the Old Guy started in mowing the grass yesterday, and while I was kicking back with a glass of iced tea and watching his manly muscles ripple as he pushed that ol' mower to and fro (well, not really ripply muscles, 'cause it's more like his tummy jiggles a bit) I realized that my backyard doesn't look like the average suburban backyard.
Nope, not one whit.
It looks more like the wilds of Borneo.

Now I would like to be able to look you straight in the eye and tell you that that's the look that I was going for all along.
The wild, jungley look.
The whole "nature at her finest", with masses of greenery and a riot of colour everywhere you look...

But that would be a lie.

It's just a mess.

With all the rain we've had lately, the damn weeds have sprouted like nobodies business, and the whole place has gotten absolutely out of control.
I mean, those weeds are thigh-high in places... and the paths are overgrown to the point where you can't even tell that there are paths there anymore.

The roses over the garden arch have now grown and filled in to the point where you would be taking your life in your hands - not to mention risking your eyeballs - if you were to even attempt to walk through it.
And since that's the whole point of the garden arch being there in the first place, it needs some serious work done on it today.
Well, not the risking your eyeballs point... but rather the walking through it, to get to other parts of the yard point.

And why do just that one little bit, when I can get to work on the rest of it as well... and make it somewhat presentable?

But to do that, I need tools.
And stuff.
Unfortunately, I'm a girl, and although I know what I need and want, I don't always know the proper terms for those tools.

The Old Guy gets so frustrated with me when I say that I want a "wacky thing" for doing the roses, or "killing stuff" for the pathways.
But that's why I need to make him aware of what I want... because the guy at the garden supply place doesn't have the Old Guys tolerance.
Or ability to decipher what I'm trying to say.

So, just as soon as I get off of here and get showered and dressed, I'm off to Bunnings to see what I can find.

I'll probably end up with $50 worth of actual tools, and then spend a small fortune on stuff like wind chimes and cement frogs and garden pots and new plants...

But that's just the way I roll, baby.

I feel good.. da da da da dum..

I knew that I would, yeah...
(close your eyes and imagine James Brown singing and dancing his little heart out.
And if you're too young to remember James Brown... Well, ummm, I don't know what to tell you.)

Other than I FEEL GOOD!

I tried to upload a youtube video of James singing "I Feel Good", but blogger wouldn't cooperate with me this morning...

So this will have to do ya...

That's how good I feel!

It took me until yesterday to start to feel half-way human, but once the "relax" part of relaxation kicked in... Whoa, doodleys!

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were pretty droopy ol' days, with me not having enough energy or desire to do much of anything, other than to sit around contemplating my navel and reading books.
But I woke up yesterday morning, rarin' to go... and full of piss and vinegar!
That is... if being full of piss and vinegar is a good thing.
But I suspect it is...
Because,

I FEEL GOOD! da da da da da da dum!

I woke up yesterday morning at 6:15 (which is late for me - as you probably know) and I vacuumed the entire house, did the dishes, (okay, so I'm a slack woman and didn't do them the night before... but they were rinsed and stacked), I also moved all of the stuff out of the dining area (table and chairs, kids table and chairs and high chairs ) and I scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees until it sparkled... then I dusted the living room and all the door frames in the house, did 2 loads of laundry and hung it out to dry, and then I had a lovely long shower... all before 8 o'clock!

So what did I do afterwards?

I did nothing.

Oh, some friends stopped by for a while, and we visited for a bit and we drank gallons of coffee. But once they left, I put in about 4 hours in the garden pulling weeds, then took another shower and curled right up with a good book. Simply because I could!

Ahhhh... I could get used to this!

Now feel free to start dancing around the house. Because I know that you're singing it.

So go -->here <-- to watch James... shaking his groove thang to "I Got You"...
And dig that crazy sweater man !

I've gone incommunicado!

Why?

Because I'm smarter than I look!

Well, not really... because to be honest with you, it's taken me a long time to wake up and smell the coffee.

But at least I've finally done it!

And what have I 'done', you ask?

I've unplugged the bloody stinkin' phone for the duration of my holidays !!!

I pulled that sucker right out of the wall, and I told told friends and family that if they want to talk to me, they need to send me an email first, or to call me on my non-business mobile phone.

Because I hate phones!

Especially since my business number is actually my home number as well...

And because most of my clients have no manners at all, when it comes to ringing me at any time of the day or night.

They know that I'm on holidays right now, because their kids are now booked with someone else for the duration of my days off, so how confusing can it be?

But for some inexplicable reason, they feel the need to inform me that they won't be here the 3rd week in November, or they call because want to book placements for the Christmas holidays.

Or, in the case of one mother, she called me on Saturday, to ask if her little darling had eaten all of her lunch last week, because she seems to be off her food and seems to be "sickening", since last Tuesday!

Like I care?

Well, I do care, (probably too much at times) but I'm not going to get all worked up about it, especially during the next few weeks!

As far as I'm concerned, if they've got a concern about their child's health, they can damn well have their doctor call me.

After he sends me an email first!

Because this time off, is all about me!

It's MY time, to blog...

My time to read blogs...

My time to read a pile of books...

My time to pick my toenails...

Or to just scratch my arse...

Oh... and to have "Nana naps" to my hearts content!

But if you need me, just call me.

Okay?