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?

Men

Are so stupid.

Well to be fair, not all of them, thank goodness... or the species would never survive,


I went out with the Old Guy after I got off work yesterday afternoon.
A lovely outing to our local Big W to buy stacks of books for me while I'm on holidays, and some hankies for the Old Guy... and then we went around to the park to feed the ducks and to count the baby geese.


But, while we were in Big W, I had noticed that the Old Guys barn door was open - as it were - and I tried tactfully and quietly, to inform him of this fact.


Ermmm... honey? Your barn door is open.


Huh?


Your barn door? It's open, and the cow will get out.


Huh? What on earth are you talking about?


You know... your barn door. Check your barn door. (doing the whole tilting my head at his pants and motioning with my eyes thing, looking straight at his crotch... while whispering so no one would hear)


All I get is a quizzical look.


I try again.
And I raise my voice just a titch.


Honey, *sigh* your zipper is down, and you have those damn green little bitty "they don't cover hide nor hair" undies on. Not a good look. Okay?


Oooh... well why didn't you just say so? Next time, just tell me that my zippers down, but Bloody hell, please just whisper it, instead of talking out loud like that, so I don't look like an idiot.
Have a little class, okay?

Okay honey.


So an hour later, after feeding the ducks, we ran into some old friends who were walking their dogs.
And because it was cold and rainy out and the wind was blowing a gale, my eyes had started watering and I had sneezed a few times.


So while standing there talking to these people, the Old Guy turns to me, and in his heartiest, loudest, "let's let the whole world in on this little tidbit" voice says,


"Babe? You have a big green booger hanging out of your nose.
Can't you wipe it on your sleeve or sumthin'?
I would loan you one of the hankies I just bought, but they're new.


He's free to a good home.
I swear he is.

TAG... you're it !

I just came across this on Reddirt Woman's blog, and since I haven't had my coffee yet and my brain is still a little bit sleep-muddled... TAG! You're it!

The rules:

1. Respond and re-work: Answer these questions on your blog. Replace one question you dislike with one of your own invention, and add another question of your own.

2. Tag some friends to play along!

1. What's your favorite article of clothing? My stretchy pants, of course

2. Who was the last person you hugged? My office coordinator Betty, last Friday night.

Oh, and the Old Guy of course, but then I'm always hugging him. :-)

3. What's your favorite dinner? Steak and lobster... with drawn butter of course.

4. What's the last thing you bought? coffee pods for my new coffee pod machine.

5. How's your head feeling right now? Headachy, but not too bad. I just slept too hard.

6. What's your favorite weather? Foggy and cool, even though it does a nasty frizzy number on my hair.

7. What is your least favorite season? Winter, because I always feel so closed in, and I have to wear stuff on my feet. I'm a barefoot kind of gal.

8. What's in your purse? A better question might be "what's NOT in your purse." You can come to me, if you need a screwdriver, a breath mint, pedometer, band aid, book ...

9. Say something to the person who tagged you. Well since I wasn't really tagged and I just stole this tag off Reddirt Woman, I'll just say a big "thank you for what you do," to ALL my bloggy friends. Y'all brighten my day... :-)

10. What is your favorite dessert? Pecan pie, with freshly whipped real cream. mmmmmm!

11. What did you want to become as a child? A cat. They don't have to do homework and people still love you even if you scratch them.

12. What do you want to be now? retired. Possibly a cat.

13. What is your favorite hymn or song? The Old Rugged Cross or Neil Young's "Old Man"

14. What is your favorite country/state? U.S.A./ California

15. If you could go anywhere in the world in the next hour, where would you go? Home to Murphys California so I could dabble my feet in the creek

16. What are my most challenging goals right now? Getting ready to have the house extension built. I'll have to move some of my favorite plants that are out in the garden, and I'm afraid that some of the natives won't take too kindly to it...

17. What is your five-year plan? Pay off the house and slow down a bit so that I can travel.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch? Little League Baseball, because it's such a joy to watch the little ones.

19. What show would you be a cast member of? Mulberry

20. What is your most prized possession? My family, of course.

21. Name a favorite childhood memory. Collecting rocks with my dad when we would go on road trips. He used to call me his "little mountain goat", because the bestest rocks were always on top of the hill.

22. What is your favorite movie? The Princess Bride. I developed a crushy 'thing' for Mandy Patinkin because of this movie.

23. What is your favorite quote? "That which you do for the least of these, you do unto me."

24. What is your favorite book? currently? Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

25. What sport would you compare your life to at this time? Is Frisbee a sport? I feel tossed around right now. And chewed on.

26. What's your favorite color, and why that color? Soft buttery yellow, because it makes me feel warm and bright.

Now I tag... Anyone who wants to join in!!

Been dealing with a Crazy Woman...

Last seen heading left.

And no... it's not me.

This time anyway

Now I don't mean to leave you out of it, and I don't want to leave you out of it.

Mainly because I'm real good at talking my fool head off most times, and I can, and will talk about any old thing that comes into this pointed little head of mine.

I'll even talk to a fencepost is no one else is around to hear me dither.

But you already know that, don't you?

Much to your occasional chagrin.

But see, there have been some things going on that I'm kind of being prevented from talking about right now.

At least until the police tell me that I can open my big trap again.

See, for the last week, I've been dealing with a complete and total crazy woman and to tell you the truth, the day care office gals and I have been put through the proverbial wringer.

With me bearing the brunt of it, unfortunately.

Through absolutely no fault of my own.

Since the end of the week, the police have been involved as well, ( it took them long enough, is all I'm sayin') and it's been a hard - and unnecessary - thing to deal with.

All the way around.

Now, if you're a praying kind of person, please say a little prayer for the "crazy woman" that I've been dealing with.

Because Lord knows, she needs the prayers more than I do.

When the whole world is against you, when they've taken your children away from you, and social services, the police, rehab and the drugs just don't help the situation...

Well, all she's got left is God.

So have no fear. I'm still around, and I've been reading your blogs whenever I get the chance.

After a totally insane week, I'm really been craving a little "dose of sanity"... and today is going to be spent catching up with y'all!

And please, don't forget to pray...