Tatersmama's take on things

Christmas 2011 -- Birth of a New Tradition!!

2011-11-04T13:38:00.006+11:00

THIS IS A GREAT IDEA! And wouldn’t it be great if everyone would participate?!

As the Christmas holidays approach, the giant Asian factories are kicking into high gear to provide Americans with humongous piles of cheaply produced goods... merchandise that has been produced at the expense of our very own American or Australian labor.
This year Christmas will be different around here - and I hope it will be different at your house too.

This year, Americans will be giving the gift of genuine concern for other Americans.
There is no longer an excuse that at gift giving time, nothing can be found that is produced by American hands.

Because YES there is!

It's time to think outside the box, people.
Who says a gift needs to fit in a shirt box, wrapped in Chinese produced wrapping paper?

Everyone ~ and I mean EVERYONE gets their hair cut.
How about gift certificates from your local American hair salon or barber?
How about massages or manicures?
Gym membership? It's appropriate for all ages - and who isn't thinking about some
health improvement?

Who wouldn't appreciate getting their car detailed? Small American owned detail shops and car washes would love to sell you a gift certificate or a book of gift certificates - and that helps keep our money in our local community.

Are you one of those extravagant givers who think nothing of plonking down the Benjamin's on a Chinese made flat-screen?
Perhaps that lucky/grateful gift receiver would like his driveway sealed...or lawn mowed for the summer... or their driveway plowed all winter... or maybe even a few games at the local golf course.

There are a bazillion owner-run restaurants around your area ... most offering gift certificates or vouchers.
And, if your intended isn't the fancy eatery sort of person, what about half dozen breakfasts at the local breakfast joint?

Remember, folks this is NOT about helping your big National chains get richer -- this is about supporting your home town Americans.
Americans with their businesses, jobs and homes on the line... and when it comes right down to it, this simple little idea can help them keep their doors open... and so that they don't go under.

I mean, for Pete's sake.... how many people couldn't use an oil change for their car, truck or
motorcycle, one done at a local shop run by the American working guy?

Thinking about a heartfelt gift for mom? Mom would probably LOVE the services of a local cleaning lady for a day.

My computer could use a tune-up, and I KNOW that I can find some young guy who's struggling to get his repair business up and running.

OK... so you were looking for something a little more personal?
Local crafts people spin their own wool and knit them into scarves. They make jewelry, and pottery and beautiful wooden boxes. Check out the local craft markets/flea markets or market gardens.

Plan your holiday or family outings at local, owner operated restaurants and leave
your server a nice tip.

And how about going out to see a play or ballet at your hometown theatre?
Do we really need to see "professional" actors, when it's even more fun watching the Bob the local butcher play Romeo... or the little girl down the street dancing to "The Nutcracker"?
And musicians need love too... so find a venue showcasing local bands, and rock the house down!

Honestly, people, do you REALLY need to buy another ten thousand Chinese
lights for the house?
Sadly, when you buy a five dollar string of lights, only about fifty cents stays in the community. FIFTY CENTS!!
That's just beyond wrong!

Our parents and grandparents celebrated Christmas just fine without the lights and tawdry decorations and expensive gifts... so let's make this the year we get back to the REAL meaning of Christmas!
If you have those kinds of bucks to burn, at least please leave the mailman, trash guy or babysitter a nice BIG tip in their Christmas card!

You see, Christmas should no longer about draining American pockets, so that China can build another glittering city.
Christmas is now about us caring about each other... and us encouraging our local American small businesses to keep plugging away to follow their dreams and keep this country strong!
When we care about other Americans, we care about our own communities, and the benefits come back to us in ways we couldn't even begin to imagine.
This seriously needs to be the new American Christmas tradition.

So go ahead...Feel free to copy this and forward it to everyone on your mailing list
Post it to discussion groups.
Throw up a post on Craigslist in the Rants and Raves section in your city.
Send it to the editor of your local paper and radio stations, and TV news departments.

This needs to be a revolution of caring about each other...
And after all, isn't that really what Christmas is about?
So c'mon people...let's start putting our own people first, and let's start thinking outside the square.

That said, I would be more than happy for any of you to offer to clean my house for me, or maybe even weed the backyard...
(Hey, I just thought I would save you the trouble of asking. *wink wink*)

(Note: I recieved this is a forwarded email, and even though it specifies "Americans"... as far as I'm concerned, it applies to ALL of us... No matter where we come from.
Just think "local"!!
Let's make this year the year that we TRULY make a difference!)

Tamale Pie... nom nom!

2011-10-31T13:09:00.005+11:00

Trust me to have things backwards...
Yeah... it may be "springtime" here in Australia, but to old American me... October means cooler weather, and good ol' "stick-to-your-ribs" kind of meals.

Which is why I said that I have things backwards... All you have to do is say the word "October" to me, and I'm suddenly yearning and salivating for my favorite Autumn foods. Or maybe that's "Autumnal"? Hey, I'm sure I don't know...
All I know for sure is that I get all organized, and go searching for the rubber boots and gloves and woolen scarves, and then I want to bake gingerbread men, and Almond Thumbprint cookies. In 80 degree heat.
Which is proof that I'm messed up.

So even though I've been here in Australia for 15+ years now, I still do the whole back ass-wards thing each and every year.
Like clockwork.
And... for the last few weeks, I've had a serious, serious hankering for spicy casserole type meals - but I've had a special craving for Tamales.
Which are impossible to find ready-made here, as are corn husks for making my own.

I will say that I did make some killer Chimichangas last week, (the Old Guy is addicted to them, and would happily eat them every night for a month - which is okay with me, just as long as he goes home to his own bed every night. Just sayin'...) but for tonight, I wanted something a little easier and less labor-intensive.

So I decided to fall back on that old Fall (springtime?) favorite... Tamale Pie.

Tamale Pie

Ingredients

~ 2 T. oil
~ 1 onion
~ 1 pepper
~ 2 cloves garlic, or more if preferred (which I do)
~ 1/4 cup chopped jalapeño pepper (optional for some, maybe... but not for me)
~ 1 pound ground beef,
~ 2 cups tomato pieces, canned or fresh, with juice
~ 2 cups corn kernels, fresh, canned or frozen (Iuse canned)

~1/2 cup of sliced olives (with a little more for garnish)
~ 1/2 cup beef broth or water
~ 1 t. chili powder, or to taste (which in my case means about a tablespoon)
~ 1 cup corn meal
~ 1 cup grated cheese (cheddar, jack, or Mexican Blend)
~ salt

Directions
Preheat oven to 350° F.

Chop onion, garlic and peppers.
Heat oil, and cook onion, garlic and pepper until softened ~ about 5 minutes or so.
Mix meat with 3/4 teaspoon salt, crumble and add to pan.
Cook and stir until the meat is done.
Add tomatoes, corn, olives, broth and chile powder.
Simmer together while preparing the corn meal.
Bring 2 cups water to a boil; slowly add corn meal, stirring vigorously to prevent lumping. (Mixture will be a little thick and gluggy.)
Add 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste.
Stir corn meal mixture into other ingredients and then place in a casserole dish or baking pan.
Sprinkle cheese over the top and bake for about 30 minutes.

And this is what you end up with:

Disclaimer: Not my pic - I have to admit that I found it online somewhere. I also have to admit that it looks a whole lot less messy than mine does, but you get the gist...

Nothing much to say...

2011-10-16T21:03:00.004+11:00

Other than I miss blogging, and I seriously miss catching up with y'all!!

I really don't know why it is, but even though I'm not working near as hard as I was a year ago, I seem to have less and less time to myself anymore... and even less time for blogging or reading blogs.
I guess a lot of it has to do with trying to get one household up and running from a long, long distance... and trying to shut one down, right here at home.

The renovations here are taking a lot longer than I had initially planned, but to tell you the truth, back when I started this journey of " heading home", I had a lot more $$'s coming in, and they were sure as hell coming in on a much more regular basis.
Nowadays, it's a matter of trying to decide if I want to buy paint or materials... or if I want to buy food.
Or maybe even some sanity. Which would be utterly lovely, I think.

And if it were just me, I know which option I would go for.
And which option my well padded butt would probably highly recommend.
But unfortunately for me at the present time, I have a teenager who seems to be pretty partial to eating at least 2 square meals a day.
And if you've ever had teenagers (or if you've ever been one yourself, I guess) I bet you know that they're pretty much bottom-less pits at times, and they sure as tooting aren't cheap to keep!
And those inevitable "growth spurts" when they try and cram a weeks worth of food into just a couple of short hours? Well.... all I can say is: Oi vey! That's enough growing, already!

I honestly feel like I've been to hell and back the last few months, with one thing or another... and I can't wait until everything settles down once again, and I can at least feel like I at least have some semblance of control in my life again.
Even if I don't really.

There's just been so much happening in my life lately - good, bad and indifferent - but most of it on the "middlin' to bad" side - that even though I know that I need to talk about it and get the weight of some of it off my chest, so to speak.... I also know that I just can't do it right now. I just don't have the energy.

Like these old shoes, I feel just plumb worn out at the present moment...

But I'm not ready for the scrap heap quite yet...

Anyone got Q-Tips?

2011-10-02T11:37:00.005+11:00

I seriously need to get my hearing checked I think... or else call the Roto-Rooter man to come clean the ear wax out!

See, it was The Lad's 17th birthday yesterday, and although I'm still mad at him and I don't know if things will ever truly get back to normal between us, I'm not a nasty enough biotch to let his birthday go by without celebrating it in some fashion. And last year (his 16th birthday) he was still living in a group home - and not one of the finest in the state, either... so little or nothing was done to "celebrate" the milestone. His records show that they took him to McDonald's... and that was it.
Whoop-ti-do, eh?

And add the fact that his mother basically couldn't be stuffed with planning anything to celebrate his birthday, (she had him for 2 hours access earlier in the week - and then handed him $20 bucks) and I felt kind of "emotionally and morally obligated" to do something at least marginally memorable... ya know?

So I asked him what he would like to do for his birthday, giving him a couple of options... and he opted for a lunch time barbecue with a couple of his mates around. Easy peasy.

I asked him clearly how many people he wanted to invite, and he told me 19... so I went to Costco on Friday to buy the place out. Sausages, party pies, sausage rolls, chips, drinks, chips and even a couple of killer size bags of lollies (candy) because no matter how old he may think he is, he's still a kid - and so are his friends.
And a cake. Can't forget the cake.
A humongous cake because I knew that 19 kids would polish it off, lick the plates and then ask for more.
Because I'm smart that way.

At the end of the shopping trip, I had stuff in the fridge, The Old Guy's fridge, and I even hit up the next door neighbor, asking her if she could store some of it for me.
I was organized, let me tell you what!

So yesterday rolls around, and I was up bright and early, getting pans ready, tomatoes and onions sliced, bowls ready for the chips and candy, ice for the soft drinks, and I even used my favorite bedspread as an emergency tablecloth on the big table.
Everything was perfect.

11:30 comes... and so far we have a couple of kids here (okay, maybe 5 or 6) and they're outside stuffing their faces with junk food, listening to and semi-dancing to some kinda crap on CD's... So I asked The Lad again how many kids were due - and again he told me 19.

So I waited to put stuff in the already ready-and-waiting oven, keeping myself busy slicing even more tomatoes and onions... and in the meantime a few more kids arrive and they go right into stuffing their faces and gyrating to the semi-music. If you can call that stuff "music". (Lordy, I've turned into my parents, I think!!)
But since we were still low on numbers, I continued to wait for more kids to arrive... and I kept busy preparing replacement platters and bowls of food to feed the hungry hoard and running non-stop in and out the back door.

1 o'clock comes, and The Lad comes in and asks if we can start the barbecue now, because everyone is starting to get hungry.

"Okay, well we'll start now, and maybe by the time the meat's done everyone else will have arrived."

"Everyone else, who? Everybody is here already! Who did you invite?"

"I didn't invite anyone - it's your party and you were told that you could choose who to invite. I only meant the other kids that haven't arrived yet. Since there are only 9 of you so far, we still have another 10 coming."

"TEN more? But this is everyone that I invited - and we're hungry now!"

"Noooo.... you told me 19, and we only have 9 kids here right now."

What??? I never said 19! "

"Yes you did.... you said 19 kids were invited!"

No I didn't!

Yes you did.

No I didn't!!!

Yes you DID, you said that 19 were coming!

No I didn't say that 19 kids were coming...I said NINE TEENAGERS are coming!

Oh bloody hell... I thought you said nineteen - and why in the name of all that's holy, would you even say nine "teenagers"? Nobody in their right mind says "nine teenagers are coming to my party"!

Well, because now that I'm 17 and more mature, (yes folks, he assumes that it happens that easily and quickly) I wanted you to know that all the kids I invited are all grown up teenagers... and that there were no little kids invited to my party, so you wouldn't buy balloons or want us to do pin-the-tail-on-the donkey games and stuff!!

Now this is what I was envisioning:

But what isn't what I got.
Which serves me right for "envisioning" anything when teenagers are concerned.

The end result is that I have enough food left over to feed an army.
I have enough sausages and party pies and pasta salad and potato salad left over to choke a horse - Hell... there's enough left to choke a whole herd of wild mustangs. Maybe 2 or 3 herds.

And then what does The Lad decide to ask at the end of the day, when I've got counter tops and tables and fridges full of leftover food?

Can I spend the night at Tom's house tonight?

Omigosh....YESSSS! Help me clean up, and I'll tell you what. If you'll stay for 2 or 3 nights, as a "special one time only deal", you can even supply the food to cover their meals for the next 2 or 3 days! And since there are 6 of 'em, don't forget to take half that monstrous cake with you!!!

But I've still got enough sausages and hot dogs left, that I almost want to break down in tears... I'm thinking Sausages in wraps with leftover lettuce and tomatoes, Toad in the Hole, Italian Rice and Sausages with Pasta... and a gazillion other things that can be done using cooked leftover sausages.

And even then, I think I'll still have cooked and frozen sausages and frankfurters coming out of my ears for another week or so... at least!

Now, the cats are fussy, and I know that they won't touch most of it, but after the next few nights, I think the dogs are gonna think they died and have gone to sausage and party pie heaven!

I just wonder if they'll clean the wax out of my ears, while they're at it?

Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been?

2011-09-17T08:04:00.003+10:00

And I'm not talkin' about that fairytale pussycat either, because as far as I'm concerned, that's just hearsay...
I'm talkin' about me - and since I haven't exactly been a pussycat lately, ( if ever) it kind of gives me pause for thought, and worries about my sanity.

So, thanks to all of you (well, the one of you anyway) who have emailed or even called me, asking about my trip home, here goes....

I have been *HOME* to see my family and cute little house... and we just got back last week. I loved seeing everyone, and I enjoyed being on home turf again, but in all fairness, I have to tell you a few other places I've been.

I've been around the twist.
I've been going crazy.
I've been at my wits end, and at the end of my rope.
And I've been in the doldrums as well, because as good as the trip was, the worse part was even "worser" than I imagined it could be.

And unfortunately, the 'bad' overshadowed the *good* parts... which means that besides being around the twist and half crazy and hangin' by various things such as wits and ropes, I've been as mad as a wet hen besides.
I've been so frustrated and dad-gummed MAD, that I haven't had much in me for sharin' or even talking about it all.

And why, do you ask?
Well... in a nutshell, because of "The Lad".

Yes... he went with us. Why? Well hell, I'm asking myself that question right now - just like I have been doing for the last 5 weeks.
And I still don't have a plausible answer.

To be fair, The Lad did do a hell of a lot of work to be allowed to go in the first place, ( or so I thought, anyway) but it wasn't until we actually stepped foot in California that I realized just how conned I had been.
In order to even go, The Lad had to prove to me that he could save the entire amount that he had budgeted for... Plane fare, food, souvenirs, gifts, and money to treat Josh Becky and the boys to a meal out once a week, etc.

He was made to understand that since we were imposing on Josh and Bec, that for the duration of our trip they were NOT to lift a finger, or spend one thin dime - it was all up to the 3 of us. Groceries for the entire family were to be split 3 ways, gas for outting's was to be paid for by the 3 of us, and when dishes or housework needed doing, we were to do it.

Unfortunately, sometime around April when The Lad was having an access visit with his mum, she told him that he was entitled to a $1,000 dole loan. A loan that didn't need to be repaid. (which was totally untrue, because for one thing, he's underage... and for another, the govt takes the repayments straight out of the account before you get paid.)
Well, woo hoo! That was it... He figured that he would be getting that 'free' money, so all his savings went right out the window... and I've never seen so much money disappear out of a bank account so fast in all my life.
Literally... $900+ dollars disappeared in a little over 3 weeks - and when I asked for it to be accounted for, I found that the Lad had been eating damn good at McDonald's, 3 and 4 times a day.

Anyway, to make a long story short, the trip home was delayed, to give him a chance to re-save what he had spent. And it was impressed upon him that no more mess-ups or screw-ups would be tolerated. None...whatsoever.
And that included getting his bowels under control. (can't remember if I mentioned before, but he has a stretched bowel and he soils himself, because he's too lazy to sit on the pot - and he thinks that's okay.)

And he was good prior to the trip... He never had an "accident" in the 4 months leading up to the trip, his behavior and attitude were up to scratch, and even though taking him on the trip wasn't on my list of *druthers*, I had hopes that things would go well.

Unfortunately, DHS (department of human services) told him that they would 'fund' him $100. a day for food, lodging and gas - which was to be paid directly to my son... but he assured me that he understood that the money was to be given directly to Josh and it wasn't "his".

Only, I was conned.

He never deemed it necessary, or even morally 'right' to pay for groceries, accommodation or anything else... other than spending it all on himself. If we grocery shopped, he would throw in 20 bucks towards HIS chips or drinks or whatever - but nothing towards the actual food that we bought for ALL of us.
And no gifts for his teacher, girlfriend, mother or anyone else either. It all went on trendy clothes and hats for himself, to impress his mates back home.

And attitude?
I gotta be honest here and admit that if he had been my own child, I would have been tempted to knock his block off, and he certainly wouldn't have been gutsing himself on McDonald's and Burger King, until his teeth grew back.
And so, because I was unable to do any screaming or yelling or even any grounding or discipline of any kind, he thought that he had me wrapped around his finger, and that HE was in charge.

I would ask him to do something repeatedly... and get no reaction.

Josh would ask something once, and The Lad would practically trip over himself to do what was asked. Impressing his new "mate", doncha know.

Josh thought he was a great kid... and he bent over backwards to show him a good time - never seeing the non-compliance and attitude that we had to deal with when Josh wasn't actually around. Which because we were staying in MY little house just down the driveway from the kids, was un-seen , and quite often.
We had:
Soiled underpants hidden in the suitcase.
Soiled underpants in the garbage.
Soiled underpants flushed down the toilet or tossed in the bushes.

Complete attitude and disregard, when it came to the Old Guy or I saying anything...
And the comments he made about Becky - as in "well she's the woman, and she should have been doing the grocery shopping anyway. After all, it's MY holiday, and I shouldn't have to do any of that "woman" stuff."
ARGGGGHHH!

He thought he had a new "mate" in Josh, and the reality of the 2 older grandsons avoiding him like the plague, while only the youngest would hang around with him, was totally lost on him.
HE was having a good time, so damn everyone else.

So... I hear ya asking "so what did you do about it?"

Okay... He started back to school right after we got home, and he was totally and completely out of control after weeks of freedom. Physical and verbal abuse of the teachers, staff and other students, and I was copping the same thing here at home.
So... DHS and his service agency decided that he needed to learn one damn hard lesson.
He was put in respite on Wednesday, and he's not liking it one little bit. While he's there, they're gonna have a heap of psychological tests run to confirm what I've been telling them all along....
This kid is narcissistic, as well as antisocial... he's a danger to himself and others ... and he's warped in too many ways to count.
And maybe too many ways for me to continue to cope with.
The best option he's facing, is that he comes back here, (better for him, but maybe not for me) and ongoing and regular respite will be part of his/our future.
The worst option?
I throw my hands up, and simply say "I can't - and won't - do this any longer... which leaves him only eligible for a group home for wayward boys. "They" will never again place him in a private home, so his goose is well and truly cooked.

You know...I always thought that I would cut my right arm off, for the benefit of a child in need.
But when that sacrifice is sneered at, laughed at, dismissed and manipulated to his own self-serving advantage?

Maybe not...

I promise that I'll update you on the trip home asap, okay?
I just needed to get this crap off my chest first... you know what I mean?
It's made me feel dirty and disappointed, and I had to work up the courage to even talk about it.
So fingers crossed, that I can get back on track, and that I'm emotionally able share the "good" stuff with y'all...

We'll never get over it... Nor should we.

2011-09-10T07:31:00.006+10:00

This is one of the best articles I've ever read.
May God Bless the fallen... the survivors... and those left behind...

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Wall Street Journal By PEGGY NOONAN

We'll Never Get Over It, Nor Should We
Ten years later, remembering a day of horror and heroism.

People are discussing the geopolitical implications of 9/11 and how the tragedy changed our country, and most of what's been said has been worthy and serious. But my thoughts, as we hit the 10th anniversary, are more local and particular. I'm in a New York state of mind.

There were two targets, Washington and New York. Washington saw a great military institution attacked, and quickly rebuilt. In Washington people ran barefoot from the White House and the Capitol.

But New York saw a world end. New York saw the buildings come down.

That was the thing. It's not that the towers were hit—we could have taken that. It's not the fire, we could have taken that too. They bombed the World Trade Center in 1993 and took out five floors, and the next day we were back in business.

It's that the buildings came down, in front of our eyes. They were there and proud and strong, they were massive, two pillars at the end of the island. And then they groaned to the ground and there was a cloud and when people could finally see they looked back and the buildings weren't there breaking through the clouds anymore. The buildings were a cloud. The buildings were gone and that was too much to bear because they couldn't be gone, they couldn't have fallen. Because no one could knock down those buildings.

And it changed everything. It marked a psychic shift in our town between "safe" and "not safe." It marked the end of impregnable America and began an age of vulnerability. It marked the end of "we are protected" and the beginning of something else.

When you ask New Yorkers now what they remember, they start with something big—the first news report, the phone call in which someone said, "Turn on the TV." But then they go to the kind of small thing that when you first saw it you had no idea it would stay in your mind forever. The look on the face of a young Asian woman on Sixth Avenue in the 20s, as she looked upward. The votive candles on the street and the spontaneous shrines that popped up, the pictures of saints. The Xeroxed signs that covered every street pole downtown. A man or a woman in a family picture from a wedding or a birthday or bar mitzvah. "Have you seen Carla? Last seen Tuesday morning in Windows on the World."

The bus driver as I fumbled in my wallet to find my transit card. "Free rides today," he mumbled, in a voice on autopilot. The Pompeii-like ash that left a film on everything in town, all the way to the Bronx. The smell of burning plastic that lingered for weeks. A man who worked at Ground Zero told me: "It's the computers." They didn't melt or decompose, and they wouldn't stop burning. The doctors and nurses who lined up outside St. Vincent's Hospital with gurneys, thinking thousands would come, and the shock when they didn't. The spontaneous Dunkirk-like fleet of ferries that took survivors to New Jersey.

The old woman with her grandchild in a stroller. On the stroller she had written a sign in magic marker: "America You Are Not Alone, Mexico Is With You." She was all by herself in the darkness, on the side of the West Side Highway, as we stood to cheer the workers who were barreling downtown in trucks to begin the dig-out, and to see if they could find someone still alive.

The notes neighbors left under each other's doors. "Are you OK? Haven't seen you and just thought I'd make sure all is all right." The flags in every bodega, on every storefront, in the windows of apartments, up and down the proud facades of Park Avenue. My beautiful cynical town covered in flags, swept by love and protectiveness toward our country.

At first we didn't know what to call it, so we called it what happened. "Do you believe what happened?" "They think he died in what happened." It was weeks before we called it 9/11. Sometimes tragedy takes time to find a name.

We were half crazy those days. We were half nuts and didn't know it. The trauma on Tuesday was followed in the middle of Thursday night by a storm, a howling banshee that shook buildings—thunder like a cannonade, lightning tearing through the sky. And then there were the stories. We kept hearing about guys who dug themselves out of the rubble. We'd hear a guy came out of the rubble and said, "There's 20 firemen down there in an air pocket," and we'd all put on the news and it was never true. I will never forget this one: As the first tower went down some guy on the 50th floor grabbed a steel girder that was flying by, and he held on for dear life and it landed on a pile of rubble 30 floors below and he got up, brushed himself off, and walked away. That wasn't true either. The stories whipped through the town like the wind, and people grabbed onto them.

And there were the firemen. They were the heart of it all, the guys who went up the stairs with 50 to 75 pounds of gear and tools on their back. The other people who were there in the towers, they were innocent victims, they went to work that morning and wound up in the middle of a disaster. But the firemen saw the disaster before they went into it, they knew what they were getting into, they made a decision. And a lot of them were scared, you can see it on their faces on the pictures people took in the stairwells. The firemen would be going up one side of the stairs, and the fleeing workers would be going down on the other, right next to them, and they'd call out, "Good luck, son," and, "Thank you, boys."

They were tough men from Queens and Brooklyn and Staten Island, and they had families, wives and kids, and they went up those stairs. Captain Terry Hatton of Rescue 1 got as high as the 83rd floor. That's the last time he was seen.

Three hundred forty-three firemen gave their lives that day. Three hundred forty-three! It was impossible, like everything else.

Many heartbreaking things happened after 9/11 and maybe the worst is that there's no heroic statue to them, no big marking of what they were and what they gave, at the new World Trade Center memorial.

But New York will never get over what they did. They live in a lot of hearts.

They tell us to get over it, they say to move on, and they mean it well: We can't bring an air of tragedy into the future. But I will never get over it. To get over it is to get over the guy who stayed behind on a high floor with his friend who was in a wheelchair. To get over it is to get over the woman by herself with the sign in the darkness: "America You Are Not Alone." To get over it is to get over the guys who ran into the fire and not away from the fire.

You've got to be loyal to pain sometimes to be loyal to the glory that came out of it.

What's up with blogger, dagnabbit??

2011-07-30T09:57:00.008+10:00

Okay... so I've been having issues off and on with the blog for the last few weeks, and to tell you the truth I don't know what to do about it.
Hell, I don't even know if I want to do anything about it at this point in time... and maybe I should just grow up and focus on the good stuff coming up, without incurring further headaches for myself.

My blog page won't load, and when I attempt to sign in, I just get a "this page can't be displayed" message. Well... not all the time - obviously - or you wouldn't be reading this mini-tantrum right now. But it happens often enough, that I just want to smack the dang thing.
Repeatedly, about the head and shoulders.
Which leads me to believe that I might have some anger management issues going on here.

But I really, really, really want this thing working right now... because I'm full of words and emotions and stuff regarding the upcoming trip home, plus I've got a new handy-dandy point-and-shoot camera, for sharing all the (probably incredibly boring to you) California/new house/family/ touristy-type pictures that I intend on taking, and I just want to share it all with you.

And if you think you just detected a smidge of whining and carrying on like a 2 year old who can't have a lolly pop for breakfast... Well, you're probably right.

Just be grateful that you can't actually see me stomping my feet.
Because stomping my feet causes my thighs to jiggle... and if there's anything worse than a 50-something year old woman whining and sooking like she missed out on an ice cream, simply because blogger isn't cooperating with her, it's that same woman allowing y'all to see her horrid wobbly thighs ~~jiggling~~ wobbling.
Wobbling like Weebles .

Not that my thighs are really in-the-the-least-bit jiggly or wobbly.
No... really.
Because they're actually incredibly toned and taut. And tanned.
I swear.
I just used the "wobbly thigh" comment, because I like to use a bit of "artistic license" every now and again.

Now please excuse me while I go slam some doors, or kick the tires or something.
See? That's my anger management issues sorted...

Beef Bulgogi... nom nom nom!

2011-07-21T11:13:00.003+10:00

I have a new love... and for once in my life, everyone in the household is in agreement with me!
Last week at Costco, we managed to hit a day when they had all their little sample wagons out, (for some reason, I usually miss out) and this Beef Bulgogi was one of the featured sample items.
After going back... and back... and back... to ummm... "taste-test" it until I thought I would burst, I kind of felt morally obligated to buy some. And man-'o-man, am I glad I did.
It was soooo delicious, and so simple to prepare, that we ate it several days running.
It was cheap, it was convenient, and it was a hit all the way around - even with the basically "non-meat eating" Lad.

But, since the trip to Costco usually takes us most of a day, (it's about an hours driving time, one way, and then I have to see everything before heading back home) I decided to go looking for a recipe on-line, rather than wait weeks and weeks for my next "fix" of smooth, velvety, and slightly spicy goodness.
I managed to find several wonderful recipes, but this is the one we ALL agreed was our favorite... but I do have to admit that they were all good!

(photo and slightly adjusted recipe from 365 Days of Happiness)

BEEF BULGOGI

1 pound flank steak, thinly sliced
5 tablespoons soy sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons white sugar
1/4 cup chopped green onion
a small amount of grated or finely matchsticked carrots (I used about 2T's grated)
2 tablespoons minced garlic
2+ tablespoons sesame seeds
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
small splash of chili sauce, or 1/2+ teaspoon of red pepper flakes

Place the beef in a large Zip Lock bag.
Combine soy sauce, sugar, green onion, garlic, sesame seeds, sesame oil, and ground black pepper in a measuring cup or small bowl, adjusting the 'heat" to your personal preference.
Pour over the beef and smoosh it around in the bag to make sure that all the beef is moistened.
Refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight.
Preheat a BBQ using high heat, or use a large skillet - and lightly oil the grate or pan.
Quickly grill/stir-fry the beef until it's slightly charred and cooked through, about 1 to 2 minutes per side.
Voila... you're done!

Simply serve with large lettuce leaves, so you can wrap your own... or wrap with mixed salad greens in mountain bread or tortillas.

California, here I come!

2011-07-20T08:48:00.002+10:00

Well... I'm not going home permanently at this point, but I'm "going home" for a couple of weeks next month anyway! Yay me!

It's taken an awful lot of work and planning, and on-going headaches to even get to this stage, but at least I've now got all my little ducks in a row, and I can actually start packing my bags!
We would have been there months ago, (I initially planned for May-June) if not for The Lad... but all those hiccups (okay, more like intense labor pains, rather than hiccups) are now out of the way, and it's all systems go, from now on out.

See... The Lad wanted to go with the Old Guy and myself, and after a lot of wrangling and to-and-froing, I got Child Protection and the Dept of Human Services to agree to allow him to go. You know... kind of like a "once in a lifetime opportunity/ educational" thing... and as a reward to him for all his hard work on getting his life back on track. (and truth be told, he's done an amazing job and I'm extremely proud of him. Most of the time.)
BUT... I insisted that he prove to me - and to the departments as well - that he could budget and save the money for the trip himself.
Every last penny.
He needed to save for not only a plane ticket, but for souvenirs, food, lodging, gas and all that kind of thing. He needed to be 100% self-supporting, while on holiday.

And as of April, he was doing so good.
That is, until his mother stepped in and told him that he could get a "free" dole loan of $1,000 off of Centrelink!! (welfare)
I tried and tried to disabuse him of the notion, and I told him he needed to get in to Centrelink and ask them himself what he was entitled to... (which at his age is nothing - and I knew that) but I also stressed that this was to be money that he earned or saved himself... not money that was simply handed to him by Centrelink or Santa Clause or even by winning the lottery.
But did he listen?
Noooo!!!

In April, when I asked him to give me a bank statement showing how much he had saved (and at that point, he should have been well over the amt needed for the plane ticket, since he had been saving since January) I was knocked for a loop when I saw that he had managed to spend ("blow" might be the better term) over NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS in less than 6 weeks!!!

And every last cent of it went on complete and utter crap!

Stuff like McDonald's for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and I was worried that his appetite seemed to be off!?)... treating who knows how many friends to Pizza Hut and the movies once or twice a week...
On that bank statement, there was not one single thing that he would end up having any evidence of.
He simply figured that I would never find out!
And his excuse?
But mum says that the dole will give me $1,000... and I figured that with what's left in the bank, I would still be almost $100 ahead!

Okay, kid... all bets are off. I'll just call the Department and ask them to arrange alternate accommodation for you while we're gone, because you will NOT be going with us. Since you figure that you're smarter than I am, and that you know more than I do... And because you don't even have enough spending money to go on a trip overseas, let alone the price of a plane ticket, you can just go into the EAU unit at school! (educational accommodation unit, where kids with disabilities learn 'life skills' that prepare them for independent living)
You could have stuck a fork in me, because I was well and truly DONE like a roast dinner!

But, sucker that I am, I gave him another chance... with the proviso that his bank card was now to be left in my capable little hands at all times, and he could only access it when he took money out for his room and board, as well as his fortnightly spending money - which I highly recommended that he save, from now on out.

And it's worked. He's saved enough that we went down and paid for our tickets to California the other day! (okay, so he was $187. short and I paid the difference, but I already told you that I was a sucker, didn't I?)
So at this point, we're just killin' time (and continuing to save his pay) until the middle of August... when we can get on that plane and fly away from here - if only for a few weeks!
(And contrary to The Lad's wishes, we will not be dropping by Chicago to see where Eminem lives, and to get his autograph! Sorry 'bout that, Mr. Eminem...)

California, here I come... Right back where I started from !!

Yard reno's.... a little closer to home...

2011-06-05T09:42:00.004+10:00

Well, we had another "work-bee/garden party/sausage sizzle" here at the house yesterday, and it was pretty much an ~~unqualified~~ qualified success. Mainly because although we got heaps and heaps of work accomplished, The Old Guy wasn't exactly in "work-mode" yesterday.
Not that he should be - because it is my yard, after all.
And with all the friends that showed up, there wasn't much room to move without bumping into someone else.
And in a yard the size of mine... that's really saying something!

So anyway, today all of the branches, trimmings, and piles of whacked off greenery are still laying scattered from one end of the yard to the other... because they never got hauled off to the tip.
And I see little hope of it being dealt with in a timely manner, anywhere in the foreseeable future anyway.

And what little work The Old Guy did do, he did on his terms, and no one else's. I mean, c'mon... if we're planning on putting weed mat down over all the gardens, and then dumping the grass clippings and old straw and garden mulch etc on top of the weed mats... wouldn't it make far more sense to do that first, and then cut the grass?

But nooo... he felt that it was more important to cut the grass first, dump the 16 loads of grass from the catcher right IN the garden beds, and then inform me that we could easily shovel it all up later, put it in the wheelbarrow and then replace it once the weed mat was down.
But he did do the more "manly" stuff (okay - in his eyes anyway)... like pushing a mower around and around in circles, and then sitting down to a cold drink and supervising.

Then when we girls put our heads together, and decided to pull out an old star-post in the front yard that was braced to a now non-existent rose bush, so that it could be used as a brace for the water faucet, (it was just copper tubing coming up out of the ground with a faucet on top) he just took off in the truck without saying a word. And I thought : "bye-bye birdie"!

Once we finally got the star post in place (it took us almost an hour, numerous broken fingernails and quite a few less-than-lady-like swear words) and were just in the process of tying it to the copper piping... he came back.

With a fancy scmanchy, perfectly sized post that he had put together at home.
And a post hole digger.
Which meant that the post we had battled with for almost an hour, had to be pulled out again. And dirt was dug up and dumped unceremoniously onto the beds that we had in perfect condition - and ready for the weed mats!
But I have to admit that he was right, and his post is far superior to the patch-job we girls rigged up.

So all in all, we managed to get quite a lot of serious work done yesterday, and this morning I'm not only counting the huge piles of refuse, but I'm counting my blessings.

I have some of the most fantastic, wonderful, helpful friends in the world!
Friends who are willing to slave their bums off for me, break their nails and backs for me... and for nothing more than my undying gratitude - and maybe a few sausages in bread.

And the Old Guy?
I think I'll keep him.
After all he does barbecue a pretty delicious sausage!

Long distance renovations...

2011-05-23T11:39:00.026+10:00

My brand-new "Little House on the Edge of the Woods"....

Pickin' WEEDS... not flowers! And all that mint on the left? I'll bet it smells just awesome!!

Don't know if you can quite see it, but that's a pond down on the left...

Looking back up, towards the house...

Not sure what was goin' on here... but we'll git 'er done!

The garage door that is going to be converted to a powered lift up door, leaving this side as a garage... and the other side will have a window put in... because it'll be turned into either a living room or master bedroom.

Future home of the infamous "killer swing"! HA! And Donovan there? Well, he will work for just pizza and beer... how cool is that? Becky will just do it for love...

Can you see the goldfish and koi? Me either, but give it 2 months!
Or maybe in the light of sustainability and growing my own, we should put crawdads in there! lol!!

The field fence will be pulled out, and good ol' white picket will be put in...

Yep, all the flowers are there, none were picked, plucked, or stolen. All accounted for.

He's done a pretty good start all around, with the landscaping! And can't you just see that porch rail all repaired and purty-fied?

It's going to be sad to see the Bay Window go, but it's not as nice as it looks in the photos.
I'm hoping we can either find another greenhouse window like it or a slightly larger Bay window - white, and double paned.

First pond back near the top of pic in the center behind the brush. A lot of promising rock work started... and more that's still buried under years of growth.

End of uncovered path, with another one through that sea of green somewhere.

Part of the reason why this place was listed as a diamond in the rough...

My son said : "Mom, we'll get these cleaned out and probably seal both ponds with a pool type material that can be sprayed, once we trench in a drain. This one has a cascading waterfall that will pump the water back into it shown in the back there under the blackberries."

It's gonna look real nice once we get the irrigation goin', to keep it nice and green.

The background is pretty much solid vinca minor, ivy, and ferns.

And probably some mountain misery, with poison oak thrown in for good measure.

He plans on a stone veneer beneath the fiber cement board siding to cover the ugly footings.

Josh said : This was the shallowest septic I've ever dug but the good news is it's all good!

This is about the property line in the back corner of the little section that needs the siding.... which will come once all the windows are done.
~~~~~~~~~~

Oh wow...I'm really loving this "long-distance renovations" thing!

My son got in touch with me last week and asked about installing a couple of security cameras down at my new house, so that he (well, we, because I want to see too!) could keep an eye on the place. And I agreed...
We'll go in halves - with me supplying the materials, and him supplying the free labor... and if that isn't a good deal, I don't know what is!

There will be cameras front and back; basically so that they can watch out for break-ins or those damn squatters coming back. But the beauty is, that not only does he get to keep a watch on things when he's at work or at relaxing at home, but I can see it too. (it's accessible by anyone with the password)

I can watch him working on the house, I can watch the wildlife (which also includes the grandsons ;) wandering around, and I can see - and hear - everything that goes on. I can even get on the mike and say "son, is that your second glass of iced tea in 20 minutes? Get back to work... NOW!"
Now really... I ask you - how cool is that?

Josh has been busy as a bee, sourcing materials and supplies, and I can't believe at how fast it's all coming together! I even got a message asking me if I want a dishwasher installed, and pumps put in for the two fish ponds, because he's got an electrican friend in to check what needs to be done wiring-wise.

He's already found me several appliances, (burnished steel) but at this point we just have a white side by side fridge with water and ice-maker.... Handy for those glasses of iced tea on the porch... Know what I'm talkin' about?

And the cost for the electricals and the electrician friend? We're gonna trade for his labor costs, with some extra chicken wire that my son has laying around the place.
The good ol' "barter system" is alive and well!

I am just thrilled to pieces with this place... and although I know it's not everyone's cuppa tea, I can see the potential just sitting there staring us in the face... and I believe it's going to be a wonderful project.

Oh... and the neighbors are wonderful!!! lol!

A day to myself... sighing contentedly

2011-05-21T09:38:00.005+10:00

A day to myself... Oh, doesn't that sound lovely?

It's something that doesn't happen very often, and at times I've wondered if I would ever see an entire day to myself again - a day completely and entirely to myself...to do only what I want to do.
But hallelujah, and pass the potatoes... today is the day!!!

Young Lad has been sent packing to a friends house for the weekend, and the Old Guy has been told in NO uncertain terms that I want the entire - and I mean ENTIRE - day to myself today.

No phone calls, no one dropping in and waking me from a nap and then asking "oh, were you sleeping?", (no, I just like to drool and make guttural snorting noises with my eyes closed, every now and again. It's FUN!) no visitors, no door to door salesmen, and no stress.
I need it... to recoup, breathe deeply, relax, garden or even just nap the day away... and to just put all the stress and worry of the last several months right out of my mind.

Now, I don't know how it ever came about, but people like me for some reason. Which means that they hang around a lot. And I like them too, if the truth be told... but in small doses. I've never been one for constantly talking on the phone, or wanting to live in someone else's back pocket on a regular basis.

Because what most people don't even realize about me is that I'm pretty much of a loner. I remember back when when I was young, and someone once asked asked me what I wanted to "be" when I grew up... and I replied "A hermit".
Or a cat.
Which worried the school psychologist, I think.

But hermit... or cat... either one would do me... as far as I was concerned anyway.
Neither one is very big on idle chit-chat, and neither one feels obligated to put the kettle on for visitors, 4 or 5 times a day.

Both potentially have fleas, (but only one is drawn to licking their bottom - hopefully. Never having actually met an honest-to-goodness hermit, maybe I'm wrong there.) and they both enjoy thoroughly their solitude and "one-ness-with-nature".

Now don't get me wrong... because I want you to know that I do love my friends. I just wish that they could all get together and schedule their visits all at one time, so that we could get it over and done with in one go.Which would at least leave me a regular day or two or three a week to myself.

So on this particular, glorious Saturday, I've banished the boys to their boyish pursuits, put the phone out in the shed where I can't hear it, and I've put a notice on the door saying:

A wee bit anti-climatic - but I GOT IT!

2011-05-19T08:06:00.013+10:00

Well... it's official!!! I got the house!

I think I did anyway. Because to tell you the truth, I'm still sort of still holding my breath, until the actual keys are in our hot little hands...

Lordy... you have no idea how hard it is doing real estate business long-distance, especially when the sellers are major p.i.t.a's and seem to relish knocking you for a loop every few days.

We made an offer... they countered.
We made another offer and they refused it, putting more stipulations and roadblocks in our way. So we offered again... and they countered again.
Finally, at long last, I guess they got tired of the whole "back-and-forth-ing" we were doing.... and they accepted the final offer.
At much more than we should have paid, if they hadn't been total idiots about the whole thing in the first place. I mean... what kind of people bid - and buy - a house totally unseen by either themselves or their agent? And then realized that they just bought a hell of a big pig in a poke - and then later expect 'us' to help them profit from their stupidity.

And it didn't help at all that for some reason my son has a life that doesn't entirely revolve around me. He's been kept busy with the grandson's, and getting engaged to our wonderful Becky, on top of opening a new shop in Angels and working late, late nights at the hotel... all while attempting to have a life of his own. Factor in the time difference and his working hours... and it was nigh unto impossible actually having a conversation about things, so we had to rely on missed messages and chats that went along the lines of:

Son: Are you there, Mom? Mom? Well, I guess not, so I'll talk to you later. Gonna get some sleep now. xoxoxo

Me: I'M HERE I"M HERE!! Dang... well, send me a message next time you're on, okay? Love you!

Yet in spite of it all, and the headaches that it caused, my wonderful son was willing to run himself into the ground for his mama and her dream... and he'll be amply supplied with green onion cakes and love in the years to come, let me tell you!

Anyway, enough blathering.... Just feast your eyes on this sweet little sentence!

Sale Pending MLS# 555xxx - 725 Sq Ft. - 0.36 Acres
2 Beds, 1 Baths - Bring your skills
Invest in your future

Not that you'll exactly be feasting your eyes on the house itself, but let me tell ya... it is just what I wanted! And the eventual squatter damage actually worked to my advantage, since I now have a basically clean slate to work with - and a son who can perform miracles with just a handful of tools and a little ingenuity!!

Diamond in the rough

Living room/kitchen area which will be turned into a kitchen/dining area

Garage... which will be turned into a step-down living room, with an additional bedroom and laundry room.

From the current living room (which will soon be a dining area)

Notice the lack of half the cupboards, swamp cooler - and even the kitchen sink?

It's my "home sweet home"... and it's going to be fun sharing the changes with you as they happen. And yeah... most people would call it a dump, but to me, it's perfect in every way because we can renovate/landscape and put our own spin on things!
And to tell you the truth, if you look at the first picture, you can almost see my son's driveway right at the back left corner of the house - so it's all about "location, location, location" baby!!.

My idea of peace...

2011-05-02T11:09:00.003+10:00

I'm currently working on a post and doing my darndest to get my old camera program up and working again... so that I can share pics of my place.
Pics that will require y'all to give me your honest - and I mean honest -even if it makes me cry - opinions on what I need to do to make this place more presentable and "sellable".

Because the sooner I sell, the sooner I can be home... and sitting here:

“The best kind of friend is the kind that you can sit on the porch with,

never saying a word...

and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation that you ever had.”

What I'm competing with...

2011-04-25T05:55:00.000+10:00

The house down the street (2 doors down from mine) is coming up for auction next weekend, and I've been haunting the place, and I've been at every open house they've had so far. (3 and counting)

As well as haunting the poor real estate agent - and I'm afraid that he thinks that I really want to buy the place. But I'm also getting a bit worried that he thinks that I have designs on him, so I may have to control myself and fore go the next open house on Wednesday.

But what I really want is to get an idea of what this particular house has to offer, and what the possibilities are for achieving their asking price - or an even higher price - for my place.
You know... what kind of work, detailing, painting, etc that I would need to do to reach the same 'standard' as it were.
And to tell you the truth, I think I'm slightly ahead of the game on several counts. Maybe not all... but some, anyway.

Their place may offer three bedrooms, and I only have two... but my bedrooms are much, much bigger. And one of theirs - in my opinion anyway - well, it's not even really big enough to use as an office or a babies room. Put a baby crib and changing table in there, and the poor baby would have claustrophobia in no time. You honestly, couldn't swing a cat without getting fur in your mouth... even if you wanted to.

But both of my bedrooms are big, with one that's almost huge...(sadly, not mine) The biggest of my two bedrooms would easily fit 2 double beds with room left over, and my room, even with a queen sized bed in there, there's still has enough room left over to throw a small party. Well maybe an exceedingly small party, but it's still plenty roomy.

And although the yard down the street is neat and tidy, it's tiny... and the fences are so low that you couldn't walk outside naked without the neighbors seeing everything that God gave you. Not that I have any desire to walk around my backyard naked, but at least in mine, I could, if I really wanted to.
Mine is secluded, it's woodsy, and it's completely and utterly private. Lots of lovely little nooks and crannies and "rooms" that are secluded from the rest of the yard... if that makes any sense.

It's also weedy and overgrown (again) and it needs a bit of tidying up, but there's enough room for 6+ units if someone wanted to buy it for development.
I would hate to see that happen, to tell you the truth, but once it's sold and I'm back in California where I belong, what they do with it won't be my concern anymore.

I'll admit it...they have a much nicer kitchen - if pretty much dated - than I have, but with the Kit-Set kitchen I mentioned in my last post, I reckon we could bring that part of the house up to snuff fairly easily and cost efficiently.
As well as bringing my bathroom into the 20th century. ( I would say 21st century, but that may be reaching for the stars just a little too much.) Mine needs the shower cubicle replaced and a vanity put in at least, but that's fairly easily done. I'm not going to say cheaply done, because it won't be. (the shower unit needs to be custom made because it's slightly less than 'standard' size) But one or even 2 days work will bring it up nicely, I think.

All in all, both houses are pretty much comparable square-footage wise, but my bedrooms and my yard are much bigger than theirs...
So if they can ask (and get) $240k next weekend, I have pretty high hopes of realizing slightly more than that, when this place goes up for auction.

Lounge (living) room

Kitchen and dining area

The largest of the 3 bedrooms (and whoever took the photo was standing right against the wall... so it's pretty darn small. Nice walk-in closet though.)

Backyard... from corner to corner

It does present well, doesn't it?

The bathroom looks nice, but the tub is pretty small and shallow.

Kitchen looking into the dining area, with the lounge room right around the corner. (in the background.)

Backyard... again, from corner to corner.

Here is a great opportunity to acquire this neat and solid three bedroom brick veneer, which is perfectly positioned near primary & secondary schools, and all amenities. Comprising three bedrooms with built in robes, a good size lounge with gas heating throughout, and a spacious kitchen & meals area with slidingdoors out to the neat low maintenance yard. The single garage has workshop space and remote roller door, and the big bonus is direct house access into the living area. There is also side access into the yard with enough space for a trailer etc. Other features include secure front fence, aluminium windows, and plenty of potential to further improve.

Anyway, I have semi-high hopes... and I can't wait to see what price this place brings next weekend!

I'm shameless...

2011-04-24T11:27:00.003+10:00

Yes, I'm shameless.

Not that I want to be... but I have to be, if I want anything to get done around this place.
I have to be ruthless and shameless and a whole lot of other "lesses" in order to get my house in order, I think. I have to beg. And I have to plead.

Partly because I'm a girl, and because a lot of the manly "men" type of things elude me. Not that I'm not willing to give 'em a try, but because I just don't have a clue about a lot of building/patching and maintenance thingies. I've tried... and messed things up time and time again. And I've even gone to the trouble of searching out professionals... who when they give me quotes, immediately send me into sticker-shock and have me reaching for the smelling salts, before I swoon.

Is it because I have ~~tits~~ breasts and they figure that they can take advantage of me?
Is it because like P.T.Barnum said "there's a sucker born every minute" and the so-called 'professionals' think I'm "it and a bit"? (well, to be honest, it wasn't actually P.T. Barnum who said "there's a sucker born every minute" - it was a banker named David Hannum who was too stupid to get out of his own way and who took Barnum to court, while trying to cover his own arse.)

Okay, so to get back to my tales of woe... and how I solved things once before...
A couple of months back, I had a " work-bee/garden party/sausage sizzle" thingie where I invited all my local friends around to help me out with the yard work, (it was a fantastic day, and we got heaps done!) and I'm seriously thinkin' of doin' it again...

Only more or a work-bee/garden party/house maintenance/"happy hauling days" kind of thing. I'll put all my worthless treasures out on tables, invite all and sundry to come along and slap some plaster and paint around, pull some weeds, pull some bales and hoe some corn... and hopefully help me knock together a kit kitchen from Bunnings... and in return, I'll fill their bellies, entertain them with witty conversation, and then let them start hauling away the ~~crap~~ treasures that I can't bother packing to send home.
As well as the half empty bottles of shampoo and potions and cleaning products and cutesy hand towels and oven mitts and knick-knacks that I once thought I couldn't live without.

And to add to the whole "I'm as poor as a church mouse" and I can't afford to pay market price for a bunch of shonky contractors thing, I also seriously hurt my back and knee in a fall a few weeks back, and in spite of chiropractors, physical therapy, potent pain meds and all that other hooey, I'm still getting around like a frog with one leg tied behind my back.
I lurch to the side and bump my arse a lot... and we won't even go into how moody and irritable I've been with it all.
(now's the time for you to say "thank goodness she hasn't been posting!!" - although I prefer that you wouldn't... and that you'll all reassure me that you've missed me - even if I've been so crabby that folks around here are wanting to break out the crab leg crackers, and serve lemons on the side of me.)

I want to get this work done... and I need to get it done asap, because I need to get this place whipped into 'sell able' shape so that I can sell up and go hooome....
So start gathering up your work gloves and tools and whatchamacallits and bring your appetite as well... and we'll get 'er done!

To be continued...

I live with mere mediocrity

2011-03-27T08:33:00.004+11:00

Martin Luther King had a "Dream" and he got out there and told the world... And it changed not only how people around the country thought and acted, but it also changed history.

Last night, I had a dream... and in that dream both my eyebrows fell off, and I ended up gluing false moustaches in their place.
Which leads me to believe that I'm not really destined for greatness.
No, really... I'm not.

I'm just mediocre.
Now, I'm not saying that in any self-depreciating way. I'm just stating a fact.
Oh, when I was young - when I had my whole lifetime stretching out in front of me... I had dreams of being someone special.
I had dreams of making a difference... and dreams of someday standing on stage accepting a myriad of awards for a whole slew of wonderful accomplishments.

I wanted to be a writer, and move people through the power of my words.
I wanted to be a horticulturist and surround myself - and others - with the beauty of plants.
I wanted to be an archaeologist and understand and unearth ancient mysteries - and hopefully, find a few dead bodies in the process. (preferably old ones)

And I wanted to be a singer of ballads - like an early Joan Baez. (well, that one was mainly so that I could meet James Taylor... who would somehow be amazed at my soul-stirring ballad perfectness, and who would sing "Fire and Rain" to me... and then we would eventually launch into soul-stirring duets in front of a roaring fire.
(preferably a fire in a fireplace... and not a Smokey the Bear kind of fire.)

I didn't do any of those things.

I grew up, studied hard, and eventually found myself working in the field of medicine... in Oncology.
And I loved it. I really did.

But it all fell by the wayside when I had my children.
Suddenly, my dreams shifted... and it was all about them.
Encouraging and nurturing their own forms of greatness.
It was about giving them wings so that they could fly and find their own worlds... and by doing so, I was somehow leaving my small legacy to the future world.

Oh I don't know that I did a very good job of it, and I certainly wasn't the mother - or inspiration - to them that I wanted to be... but I think I did alright.
I raised 3 wonderful, caring, involved, and thoughtful children, but I honestly think it was more by the grace of God... than because of any overwhelming constant, prodding input from me.
And now I'm attempting to make a difference in the life of the Lad... and I think we're making wonderful progress

I guess that there's just something in me that needs to "give" to others.
And after years and years of soul-searching, I've finally realized that it's not because I want praise and adulation, (well, to tell you the truth, I knew that one already) or some fancy-schmancy headstone trumpeting to the world that I made a difference...
It's simply because I want to give children the key to their own futures.

I'm no saint.
I'm not special.
I'm just mediocre.
But I surround myself with potential greatness and I (hopefully) infuse small people with a hope for their eventual future.

And that's enough of a dream for me.
Funny eyebrows notwithstanding...

{Edit}
Some one just shared this with me and it really struck a chord...

"During your life, everything you do and everyone you meet rubs off
in some way.

Some bit of everything you experience stays with everyone
you've ever known, and nothing is lost.

That's what is eternal... these little specks of experience in a great, enormous river that has no end"
~ Harriet Doerr

Date night at a dive...

2011-03-13T07:56:00.005+11:00

I've had a battle on my hands, trying to teach The Kid some never-before-learned "life skills", and I'm happy to say that we've made some pretty good progress.
He's getting pretty proficient at doing his own laundry with all the sorting, soaking, hanging out and all that goes with it... plus he's cooking for the family, doing dishes, etc.
(Just don't tell him that today is "scrubbing the toilet and cleaning the bathroom day", or I'm afraid that he'll bolt for the hills and I'll never see him again!)

So anyway... last night I was too ~~lazy~~ tired to cook and we decided to go to The Royal Mail hotel just up the road from here. Now the last time we were there, I had one of the best meals I had had in a long, long time, (succulent, delicious garlic prawns) so when it came to choosing where to go for dinner, it was pretty much of a no-brainer.

Not only did I not have to cook, and I could have my fill of Garlic Prawns, but The Kid could practice some important life skills... such as calling and reserving a table, ordering the meals, table manners, paying the bill, etc. (unfortunately not with his money this time, but still...)

Now, I worked until 6pm and he had booked for 7, so I reminded him that he needed to shower earlier, so that I would have time to fancify myself when when my little charge left.

Unfortunately, he took the whole "date night" thing very seriously, and he spent almost 45 minutes in the bathroom... showering, doing his hair, brushing his teeth, slapping aftershave on his little peachy-fuzzy face and even cleaning his ears!

Which meant that I barely had time to change my clothes and run a comb through my hair, but I could do little else in the way of looking presentable...
But Ce la vie I guess.

Once we got to the restaurant, he did a terrific job of ordering, getting drinks (a pitcher of Coke)
and making conversation ... and asking me things about myself for a change, and not carrying on endlessly about Eminem - thank goodness!
All was going well until he took a couple of bites of his chicken parmigiana, and realized that it was still raw inside... and that there was a bit of stringy plastic stuff between the chicken and crumbed coating. He did well with going back to the waitress and requesting another meal.. and luckily, the next one was cooked to perfection.

Unfortunately, I was pretty well disappointed in my garlic prawns, (more like shrimps in a butter sauce this time) and the choices of "sides" was less than inspired, and since the raw chicken had basically put him off... we decided that enough was enough. He went up and asked for a doggy bag for meal, and then went back to the "sides and salad bar" to top the chicken off - "to eat tomorrow for lunch".
Once we got home, he made me a cup of Sleepy Time tea, and he even thanked me for paying for dinner!

I'm beginning to see a glimmer of hope here with The Kid.

At long last!

Just some updates....

2011-03-08T12:20:00.003+11:00

I know that I've been slack lately, but I have to admit that quite a lot of you have been sending me private emails, and asking 'what's going on with ____ or ____ or have you heard any more about ____.
And so, I'm gonna do my best to bring you up to date.
Because we all know that I've been causing you a lot of sleepless nights, and keeping you from living life to the full.
And I apologise for that.

So here we go.

1. The Kid.
The placement with The Kid is going good. I would say it's going "great"... but that would be fibbing. Oh, don't get me wrong... he is a good kid, but because he's been in care for almost 14 of his 16 years, it's been a real battle teaching him "life skills".
How other carers could completely and totally allow him to skip showering and tooth-brushing... and allowing him to take the train to Melbourne on his own, at 15 years of age, I don't know. But they did.
And now I'm gettin' grey hairs because of it.
And I'm going hoarse as well, I think.

2. The Hay Bale garden.
Now this one did a lot better than even I expected... even though it took a while to take off.
Once it got going though, it's just going and going and going... kinda like an Energizer Bunny garden.
The tomatoes and eggplants are still producing, and showing no signs of stopping... I have peppers of every description still coming out of my ears and I've run out of room in the freezer, and I can't even freeze anymore!
So if you've though about giving this thing called "hay bale gardening" a try - I say GO for it!!

3. Moving Home.
Yes... I'm going home.
Soon. But how soon? I dunno. We're still waiting on the property next door to my sons place, although we're also still working on the manufactured home option as well. Because... I mean, who wouldn't want to have 2 homes? I guess most people would prefer houses in different areas of the country, but this 2-in-1 idea is going to suit us right down to the ground.
Because I have ideas...
One house will be for livin' in... and the other will be used as a B&B. And hopefully, (we're working on this one) the B&B can be used as a "get-away" once a month for a returned serviceman's family.... or a deployed serviceman's family - completely and utterly free of charge.
So, as you can imagine, even though things seem to be going slowly right now, there are lots of plans/decorating ideas etc, going on behind the scenes.

4. Cleaning out junk prior to moving.
Well, thanks to my friend Jenny, this one is just about under control. We cleaned out almost all the kitchen cabinets and threw stuff away and gave stuff to the Salvation Army... and to be honest, Jenny scored most of my Tupperware, because quite frankly, it's not worth trying to ship back to the US.

Then we hit the linen cupboard... where Jen also scored heaps more stuff. Along the lines of towels and sheets and doona covers and even a quilt or 2. And the rest is now sitting in the Salvos, so I'm down to next to nuthin'...
But just enough to do me.
Which will make the moving men happy, I'm sure.

Then we hit my bedroom... and I'm not going to say much about that mess, other than I was beginning to wonder if I was going to survive it. It was hot and dusty and never-ending and overwhelming... going through all the stuff that had been sitting in the back of the closets for years and years... and believe you me... I was getting cranky!
But we did it. Eventually.

So there ya go.
You're all up to date.
Mostly.

To be continued....
Maybe.

Oh happy days...I won't be missing out!!

2011-03-04T08:56:00.004+11:00

I know I haven't been around much lately, but things have sort of been "happenin'" here.
Good stuff and bad stuff, as well as on-going kid problems... But I won't even attempt to go into that particular issue, because I honestly think that if I start thinking about it - or writing about it - I'll start pulling my hair out and gnashing my teeth... and I don't have the energy for anymore of that right now.

Plus, (and this is mainly why I haven't been around much lately) I've had LOTS of computer issues as well - but the pc problems now seem to be resolved thanks to my wonderful techie and a brand-new (well, at least to me) Bessie here.
I had no idea at all that my computer could run this darn fast !!
It's like greased lightning!!
(Jason? I love ya, honey!)

Blogs are now loading instantly...and when I type, I don't have to wait 20 seconds for the letters to show up...
So I don't have to sit idly by while the text loads, or kill time by doing the dishes or scrubbing the toilet or anything.
Yay me!!

Less time doing housework is always a bonus as far as I'm concerned.
*wink wink*

Don't take that away from me...

2011-02-22T06:13:00.004+11:00

I consider myself to be an "Urban Homesteader" - if only in a small way - at this point in time anyway.
I grow some of my own veggies, (or attempt to, when the snails aren't busy thwarting me) I have fruit trees, I can and preserve - as well as occasionally freeze my homegrown fruits and veggies.
I collect rainwater for re-use in the garden, and the rinse water from the washing machine goes directly on the garden.
I compost, mulch, recycle, repair and reuse or give stuff away... whenever I can.
I do what I can to be self-sufficient, and although I'm certainly not where I want to be yet, I'm walking the walk and talking the talk.

But the right to call myself an Urban Homesteader may soon be taken away from me - and taken away from any of you - who consider yourselves to be *Urban Homesteaders*.

See, it seems there's now a war a-brewing, and it all has to do with the Dervaes family aka Dervaes Institute - feeling that they, and they alone, should have the sole legal right to use the term "Urban Homestead" or "Urban Homesteading".
Because they "trademarked" the terms in 2010.

"Last year, the Institute managed to register the term as a trademark (in connection with “educational services” such as blogging) and it is now sending take down requests and warning letters targeting individuals and organizations that have been using the term for years."

Now, as far as I know - and according to numerous sources smarter than me - "urban homestead" or "urban homesteading" is simply a term in common usage... and it's used by folks all over the world, who are only just trying to reduce their impact on the environment and live a healthier and more sustainable lifestyle.
By growing their own food... whether it be fruits and veggies, or chickens or assorted livestock for personal use, or collecting rainwater, re-using grey water, canning, dehydrating, freezing, making cheese or butter, or wine and beer ... plus a whole lot of other things.

It's what people have been doing for a long, long time... and in all that time, the terms "Urban Homestead" or "Urban Homesteading" have both been in common usage.

As a matter of fact, a lot of urban homesteading books have been in published in the last ten+ years or so (before the term was copyrighted)... and I'm lucky enough to own a couple of them.
(Neither one these though.. but they're definitely on my wish list)

Urban Homesteading by Rachel Kaplan and K Ruby Blume
("Rachel Kaplan has been gardening in and around urban environments for over 15 years and belongs to a family of farmers and lovers of the land... and K. Ruby Blume is an educator, gardener, beekeeper, artist and activist, with 20+ years experience gardening in an urban setting.")

Urban Homestead by Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen (published 2008)
To check out their blog - "Root Simple", go here

Now these very people are being unfairly confronted with legal action... all because the Dervaes family/ Dervaes Institute - believe that they - and they alone - should have sole right to the terms.
They even went to the extreme of contacting face book ... and managed to get several pages belonging to Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen as well as others (folks who use the terms) disabled.
Good one, face book.

But... this whole kerfuffle has ticked off a lot of people who consider themselves to be "urban homesteaders", as well as getting in the faces of Face Booker's and Bloggers...
So the upshot is that there's now a serious backlash against the Dervaeses' and their stand-over tactics ...
And that's as it should be, in my humble, urban homesteading opinion.

Take Back Urban Home-steading(s)
(face book page)

Simple pleasures are best...

2011-02-17T08:21:00.003+11:00

I was thinking the other day about food... and how in the last few years, we've gotten so spoiled with all the fancy cooking shows and blogs and all that competitive, "I can cook fancier than you" stuff.
You know... instead of plain ol' meatloaf and mashed potatoes, we now feel obligated to fix something that requires 37 rare and hard-to-find ingredients, and then we have to use all kinds of fancy and expensive gizmos to make and mix it with.
Not that I've ever felt obligated ... but I'm just sayin'.

So, the other day when I was feeling peckish around lunch time, I decided to make a good old fashioned Tuna Salad Sandwich.

And once it was made, and I ate a big spoonful straight out of the bowl.... Mmmm!
I thought I had died and gone to heaven!
So it's true.
Sometimes simple is best!

I figured that with 2 men in the house, I should triple the recipe... and that way I would make sure that I had something left over for an afternoon snack for the next few days.
I'll give you the measurements I used, but this can easily be altered to suit your own tastes - or your appetite.

Tuna Salad Sandwich

3 cans of white Albacore tuna in spring water (drained)

3 hardboiled eggs, chopped

1 large dill pickle, with one half finely minced, and the other half roughly chopped

1 small onion, minced finely

Mayonnaise to moisten.

optional / a small sprinkling of dill or other fresh herbs / or a small splash of chili oil

I like it best on plain ol' wheat bread toast with lettuce, (reminds me of my far distant youth) but rustic whole grain breads or even toasted English muffins are real good too!

It's almost snack time for the kids and I, and I can hear that tuna calling my name... so I'll catch you later!

Can you add to this?

2011-02-13T13:38:00.003+11:00

This "forwarded" email was sent along to me... and since I'm a bit frazzled and burnt out energy-wise, and my brain is only firing on a couple of cylinders right now, (well that is if 'one cylinder can legitimately be called 'a couple of cylinders') I thought I would share with y'all, in place of a regular post...
Because my brain just ain't a-workin' today!!

Now let's sit back and see what 'nuggets' you can add in the comments section!

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing is worse than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How in the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my own neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions sometimes make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night that more kisses begin with Miller Lite, than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch three consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is "also" important.

Just indulge me... I'm feeling homesick

2011-01-29T05:13:00.000+11:00

My dear friend Farmlady, over at Over Good Ground had a wonderful blog post a few days back... ( I missed it, until she brought it to my attention this afternoon) and after reading it and reveling in the photos, I've been so homesick that I could almost cry.

To think of Farmlady travelling the same roads that I long to travel again, and for her to see the sights that I ache to see again... well, it makes my heart glad.
Because I know without a doubt, that she understands just how much I miss "home"...

Because she lives there.

New Melones Lake

Natural Bridges - upper cavern

Main Street - Hwy 49, Angels Camp

Fourth Crossing

California Mule Deer

Angels Theater - the only show in town!

Mountain Misery - Ahhh, the fragrance!

Getting ready for the Calaveras Frog Jump - the street is decorated like this every year.

New Melones Lake

California Blue Jay

On Wednesday nights, Mike's has the best "all-you-can-eat pizza!

Melones at sundown

Band rotunda, Murphys Park

Decorations onHwy 49, just before the Calaveras County Frog Jump

Natural Bridges... a few miles out of town, and an absolutely wonderful place to swim!

Murphys... just down the road from where I'm moving to.
This is "Home"....

My Mama didn't raise no fools!

2011-01-27T09:04:00.005+11:00

Heck... my Mama didn't raise no fools!
She just raised an idiot.

I posted this as a little ol' message on "Face Book messages" a few days back... and I've gotten a fantastic response - in spite of my wording!

Work Bee / Garden Party / Sausage Sizzle

With all the rain we've had lately, as well as the flood damage, my garden's gotten totally out of control... and I need some help with it.
The weeds, grass and vines are everywhere, and at my advanced age, I sure as heck can't do it all on my own.

So y'all are invited to a "work bee - garden party - sausage sizzle" on Saturday, the 5th of February!
Sounds like fun, eh?!

Bring your favorite tools, (weeders, secataurs, trimmers, rakes, children, etc) and I'll provide all the sausages, beer and soft drink you can handle - And we'll have a ball whipping this place back into shape!

When: Saturday February 5
Where: My place
Why: Because you love me.

RSVP asap... Because I need to know how much food and drink to buy, because I wanna keep ya happy! ;)

So next time, I think I'll take a little more time to proof-read and edit... which will hopefully stop me from calling people's children "tools"...

At least in print, anyway.

And before I forget.
You're welcome to bring your least-favorite children.... as well as your favorite ones.

I won't tell 'em, if you don't.

Just so tired...

2011-01-19T08:35:00.002+11:00

I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I've been so tired and stressed, that it's an overwhelming effort to even put one foot in front of the other.

My house needs cleaning... seriously. But I just figure that dusting is a waste of time, since it's back within a day or two... and to tell you the truth, I would rather conserve my (rather limited) energy for something more productive.

The problem is, I don't know what that is.

It's certainly not scrubbing the shower, or doing the dishes.
It's not doing yard work... and I can't even get excited about the tomatoes that are slowly beginning to ripen or the peppers that are now prolifically producing.

I look at all of it and just think "meh".

I do know what it stems from, (the house in California) but since that too is out of my control for the time being, I guess my only option is to have more faith, and work on having a bit more patience.
But I wonder if I even have it in me anymore to do either of those things.

I've finally - after a lot of thought and prayer - decided to just say "bye-bye" to the little house next door to my son - and go for the manufactured home on the kids property, option.
What I want, and what I can realistically afford are two vastly different things, and to be honest, I think I got so worked up and excited about the first option (buying the little house) that I just didn't look at the bigger picture.
Yeah, IF the bidding had come in low enough, it would have been a workable plan.
Definitely.

But since it didn't, I know that God was letting me know that this wasn't to be.
I just couldn't accept that at the time... and I wailed and railed against it for weeks.
But I've accepted it now, and it's now time to buck up and move on.

But that's easier said than done... you know?

I know that my son is working on things on his end.
And I know too, that with him working full-time and having a missus and 3 little boys to care for, in addition to doing all his necessary "stuff" as well, that he has bigger and better things to do than inform his overly needy Mama of every little detail, or phone call, or trip to the planning department for permits and such.

It's just that it's so hard to play this waiting game, and to not really know what's going on.

Last August, I took a giant leap of faith and quit my job in preparation for the eventual move, (though I'm still working part-time, privately) and I started in on tidying up this place, so that I could get it on the market.
At that point, I was figuring on being out of here by the beginning of the year, but y'all know how those plans turned out.

And with one thing after another seemingly falling through, it's getting harder and harder to maintain this place - let alone make improvements - with next to no $$'s coming in.

Will the manufactured home (if it all goes through) be ready by March?
By April?
By June?
It's the "not knowing" that getting me down.

Moving house is a major life-changing decision at the best of times, but to do it from this end, virtually blind and not really knowing what's going on on the other end... well, it's just damn hard - you know what I mean?

So s'cuse me, but I'm tired.... so I'm gonna go work on that "faith and patience" thing some more.

facebook

2011-01-09T11:32:00.000+11:00

Don't know if any of you are interested, but I can be found on
facebook. (<<<--- click here)

All you have to do is send me a friend request... and if you tell me who you are, (which is extremely helpful, considering my tendency towards doofus-ness) I'll add you forthwith... okay?

I'm such an addlepated doofus...

2011-01-07T08:57:00.005+11:00

It's recently ( and repeatedly, I might add) been brought to my attention that I haven't filled any of you in on the additional and/or latest status of the house I bid on.

Several of you have commented on the fact that I haven't updated y'all at all since the post
"I'm still blue in the face"
And as well, a few folks ~namely Miz Becky @ Becky And Her Babies and Miz Nancy @ Southern Blessings ~ have sent me numerous emails... wanting to know what was going on regarding the little house in Murphys.

So I apologize for keeping you in the dark - especially after all your sweet prayers and good wishes.
I could have sworn that I said something on the blog, but I guess in fact I just posted it on facebook and shared it in a few private emails.
Me bad...
But I told you before, that I needed a minder - now didn't I?

Well, you can at least un-cross those fingers and toes and other assorted body parts now.
At least temporarily, anyway.

We're still waiting.
Unfortunately.

It seems that with the Christmas holidays and all, the real estate agent for the winning bidders has been a little slow in getting back to us.
Now, I don't really believe that it's because of all the houses that she's been selling for Christmas, so methinks that she's just not very "on the ball", as it were...
Although she did pop around to my son's house a few days back, asking him to show her the septic and leach fields, and now - on behalf of the owners - she wants to get a surveyor in.

So the waiting game continues.

But... I keep having this niggling thought in my head.
I told you that I was praying that the house would someday be mine, right?

Well, it seems to me that my losing the house was a pretty clear and resounding "no" on God's part ...
And even though there is still a chance that it can be mine, I keep thinking that God wouldn't have me lose out by $6,400 dollars, just so I could turn around and later pay a higher price.
I don't believe God works that way.

And even IF the owner and agent decide to take a loss, and sell it on to me for far less than they paid, if God really wanted me to have that particular house, why would he let the bidding go so high, knowing that I need every last penny for renovations?

If I was really really meant to have it... wouldn't it have gone for around $25,000 in the first place?
And wouldn't the other guy's agent have gotten a flat tire, or neck boils or something, on the way to the auction ... so that he couldn't outbid me?

So the "waiting game" continues... but I'm not sitting around on my cute little butt.

We're also looking at transportable homes, and Josh has found one that I'm absolutely drooling over. With a master bedroom suite, 2 additional bedrooms, a mini-bar and a wood-burning stove, as well as a huge deck. Room for guests, (and I hope to have a lot of 'em) as well as space for the grandsons to whoop it up a bit, while grummie sits on the old front porch swing and casts adoring glances at them.
When I don't have guests, that is.

These transportables are all homes that could easily be set up on a small portion of Josh and Becky's land for far less money than what this other place would potentially cost me. (including transport, as well as all set-up costs, such as permits and hook-ups, utilities and the like)

I could even place it basically 15 feet behind the other place (the one that I didn't get) and I would still be far enough away for privacy... but yet still near enough to get the occasional morning cup of coffee ~ personally hand-delivered by my lovely family.

So there ya have it ~ in a nutshell.

To be continued...
(eventually, anyway)

It's not working yet...

2011-01-04T06:58:00.004+11:00

Well, I had high hopes for the New Year - not to mention my New Year's resolutions... and even this early in the game, it looks like it's a losing battle.

See, this year, I vowed to be more organized... so that I could find the time to do things that were important to me.
Stuff like catching up on blogs, and getting around to posting more regularly.
Things like getting out in the yard and getting the veggies fertilized, not to mention doing something about the waist-high weeds that are quickly becoming a tangled jungle out there.

I vowed to get the Christmas tree down by January 2nd, and get everything - including the ornaments - boxed up properly, so it would all be ready for the moving van.
Which also needs to be scheduled, since it's going to take at least 6 weeks to get from this end to the other.
Which also means sorting and packing and tossing and giving away my possessions - most of which I look at now and think "what in the hell was I thinking?" when I bought that?

None of that is getting accomplished.
Not one iota.

The Christmas tree is still standing in the corner... mostly devoid of ornaments, but I still have the lights to do.
The ornaments are piled haphazardly on the table, awaiting sorting and boxing.
And the stinkin' cats made off with the tinsel rope a couple of days back and I haven't even bothered to go looking for it.

The refrigerator needs a good cleaning out, but I keep using the excuse that I want to wait until garbage bin day - which is 3 days from now.

The laundry needs doing, but I keep using the excuse that I want to get the laundry room tidied and sorted through first before dragging the clothes baskets out.

Hell, there are even towels on the clothesline that have been there since at least 2 days ago... but I'm just using the excuse that they're just getting well aired.

Excuses, excuses, excuses...

I need a minder.
I swear I do.
Or at the least a cattle prod... and someone to administer it to my hiney.

Pity no one gave me one for Christmas.

The "eats" are coming out of my ears!

2010-12-27T09:47:00.005+11:00

You know, I've never been a stickler for traditional breakfasts... I just figure that if something tastes good, and is basically good for you... it's all fair game - no matter what time of day you eat it.

Which is why I'm having an open faced hot turkey sandwich and green bean casserole for breakfast this morning.
With some antipasto and sesame crackers.
Okay, so maybe the last bit is a bit too much for breakfast, but I'm afraid that still haven't gotten out of the habit of cooking (or buying, for that matter) for a crowd.

It's a habit that comes in darn handy I guess, when you have a large family or lots of guests... but when you're basically on your own, with just a growing boy (and an extremely fussy eater at that) you can end up eating leftover Christmas dinner for a week - or throwing a lot out.
And that's something that just doesn't sit well with me.
I figure "waste not, want not".... even if the Boy turns his nose up at twice stuffed sweet potatoes with cranberries and walnuts at 9am.

When my kids were young, we always had "Pick 'n Pull" at least once or sometimes twice a week. Where for dinner, they would just go to the fridge, pick out whatever leftovers they wanted to eat, pull it out - re-heat - and eat.
Hence the "Pick 'n Pull".

It's something that works well if you have a large family and lots of holiday leftovers.

But when you don't really have enough family members on hand, eating large amounts and/or a variety of holiday leftovers - whether it's for breakfast, lunch or dinner - well... it can get pretty tiresome after a day or two.

This is my second day of turkey sandwiches for breakfast, and leftovers in general.... and so far, I've only managed to really finish off the olive dip.
And some chips.
Oh... and a box of Ferrero Rocher, if I'm gonna be totally honest.
But it was a small one, I swear.
And I only ate it because I was watching "The Bone Collector"on TV... and looking at Denzel Washington always makes me hungry.

You know what? I think I might throw some of this leftover stuff out in the yard - and give the animals and birds a late Christmas treat, eh?
Because quite frankly, I'm just about turkey and veggied out.

So for dinner tonight, it's gonna be corn flakes for me.
Maybe with a scoop of ice cream on top.

Because the food in the freezer needs to be pared down a bit, too, you know.
And I don't want the ice cream going to waste. ;)

That's another one down...

2010-12-26T07:59:00.003+11:00

I know that most of you are celebrating Christmas as I write this, but here in Oz, we're a day ahead of y'all and for us, Christmas is now a thing of the past.

I kind of have mixed feelings about it, because this was my last Christmas in Australia.... and although it was a good one in a lot of ways, in other ways, it was like I wasn't even fully present - if that makes any sense to you.

Probably not, since the workings of my heart and mind are an enigma to even myself at the best of times... and the things that I fully expected to dread seemed to go smoothly, and the things that are pretty much second-nature to me now, seemed to be odd and off-kilter to me.

Oh, don't get me wrong... it was a good Christmas.

I was blessed to be able to spend my grandsons "early Christmas" watching them open their gifts on web-cam, and I felt so blessed to be "there" with them - if only in a small way.
(they alternate between their parents houses, and this is Josh and Becs' way of ensuring a complete Christmas morning and a full day with their presents, before them going to their fathers' and the evil step-mothers house.)
So, I got to spend over 91 minutes watching the boys tear into their gifts, and listening to their squeals of delight... and their sharing their joy and excitement with their gifts with their Grummie and Grumpy ...
And it done this ol' heart good ... let me tell you!

Then later that day, (the day before Christmas Eve to you all in the N. hemisphere, but Christmas Eve itself, here in the S hemisphere...) the Old Guys daughter and her boyfriend showed up - thoroughly and completely making the Old Guys day! It was the first year since Skye was about 2 years old, that he's managed to spend any actual "Christmas" time with her - and he was simply walking on air!
After years of "not nice stuff" that we've all been through with her mother, it was truly a wonderful and blessed time for the Old Guy and Skye - and for all of us.

Then yesterday ( remember...Christmas Eve to y'all - but Christmas day for us here in Oz) was a joy as well, with the Boy opening his presents early, before heading over to spend the day with his mum, and then the Old Guy and I just sort of lazing around watching a video, (okay, snoring, if you really need to know) while waiting for the Boy to return - and for guests to arrive for a late-ish "Christmas dinner".

That went well too, and I thoroughly enjoyed it - although there was a bittersweet aspect to it as well, since it was my last Christmas - probably ever - with Jenn and her family.
We ate and talked... and then we nibbled and ate and talked some more... and after they left, I ended up going to bed sometime well after midnight - feeling full of joy and contentment.
And Christmas cake.

It was good.
I keep telling myself that anyway.
But mostly, I was left with the feeling that it somehow wasn't real - or complete.
It was kind of like having an intense craving for prime rib and all the fixin's... but ending up with a McDonald's' Happy Meal instead.
Yeah, your belly's full and you've had enough to eat, but it's only make-do and a stop-gap measure while waiting for the real thing.

Maybe that's just me....or maybe it's how we all feel after all the wind-up leading to the holidays... and the inevitable let-down of emotions afterwards.
I don't know.
All I know is that once The Boy heads off with his mum this morning, to spend some time with his grandma in Melbourne, I just want to cherish the quiet time - and catch up on reading blogs.

Oh... and maybe I'll eat some of this leftover Christmas cake too...
With a giant dollop of Brandy custard. ;)

Merry Christmas, everyone!!

2010-12-23T09:07:00.010+11:00

The true joys of the Christmas Season...

After some "not to be disclosed issues" with the Boy the other day, he was assigned the abhorrent (to him anyway) task of preparing dinner for us all.

Kind of like a punishment, so he could see what I go through ... and hopefully so that he would gain a little respect and understanding about what I do for him on a daily basis.
That was the plan anyway.

And I have to admit that he did a bang-up job of it... not burning anything, not swearing even once, or banging the pots and pans... and once it was all prepared and ready, of actually going to the extent of arranging the food artfully on the plate.... reminiscent of Master Chef Australia or one of the world's finest restaurants.
Which is nothing like how I do it.

Me, I'm more of a slopping it on the plate, and licking off the drips kinda gal...

Anyway... I was out in the patio, decorating for the Christmas dinner we'll be sharing with friends tomorrow, when I was called to the table...

Only to find the Old Guy and the Young Boy sitting expectantly with their meals in front of them - and actually waiting on me.

Like being patient and everything.
I no sooner sat down, than they each grabbed one of my hands, and then the Boy garbled out the fastest and most succinct "Grace" I've ever heard in my life... but hey, it was lovely that he even did it - ya know?

So in the middle of eating, (yummy Chicken Parmigiana and steamed fresh veggies - oh my!) Boy turns to me, and asks if we could go for a drive to look at the Christmas lights.
Ughhhh... I'm tired after working a 12 hour day, I have heaps of things to get accomplished before Christmas Eve, I'm still a bit miffed about the aforementioned "not to be disclosed issues", and the timing isn't the best in the world... but hey - it IS Christmas...

So I say yes.
We'll head out (*sigh*) as soon as it starts to get dark.

And then wonder of wonders, I start feeling excited about seeing the lights myself, (the Boy bouncing around and singing Christmas songs like he's 8 years old, really, really puts me in the mood) and we sit down and plan our route - so we're sure to catch the best lights.

And this is what we got :

Disclaimer. There are NOT my actual photos, but are a visual representation only. I was afraid of my camera flying out the window, so I resorted to web images which are far clearer than anything I could have taken at speeds of 60 km's or more an hour. And Christmas lights and decorations viewed from a speeding car leave a LOT to the imagination.
As you can see for yourselves.
And besides, I was too dizzy from the lights whipping past my eyes to focus on much of anything.

But it doesn't really matter, at all... because in the end, THIS is what it's all about!

Perhaps 2010 has been a hard year for you, and I think we all wonder if 2011 will be any better.
Whatever your situation, may you find hope in the One who came to live among us that first Christmas night.
May 2011 bring happiness and peace to you and your family - and to our world.

Merry Christmas to you all!

I'm still blue in the face...

2010-12-13T05:52:00.009+11:00

Remember that post a few weeks back, when I asked you to pray that I get my little house, so that I could move back home... Home to where I belong?
Where my heart is?
This one... remember?

Well, thanks to one of you not praying quite hard enough, it didn't come to pass.
No... I'm joking.
So I take that back - it's not your fault at all.
None of yous'. It's actually the fault of some cashed up - 'we have more money than sense' - idiot from a local community.
Valley Springs to be exact.

Now if you're from Valley Springs - or happen to know someone who is - I apologise for the disparaging comment... knowing full well that not all Valley Springers are idiots.
Just some of 'em.
Or one in particular, anyway. No, make that two...

The day of the auction dawned full of hope and happiness... and with all our little ducks in a row..

Prayers said. Check

Laptop charged and waiting to communicate words of joy and congratulations with a "she's been holding her breath for so long that she's now turned a delightful shade of purple" Mama in Australia... Check.

Cashiers check made out to the maximum bid amount... which was approximately double what we figured that it needed it to be... Check.

Celebratory beverage on hand, waiting to be used to ermm... celebrate when the auction was done. Check.

So... with said little ducks all in a row, I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, planning on being on the computer at 4am, well in advance of the 10am start of the bidding. (there's 5 hours difference between California and here, basically meaning that as I'm eating my breakfast, they're just sitting down to lunch there.)
The plan was that I would turn on old Bessie here at approximately 4:30, but because of the aforementioned sleepless night, I had been sitting here and eyeing the clock and saying "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon".... from about 3am onwards.
Planning things in my head.

Planning the new kitchen that I wanted installed, looking over all the photos of the house, and mentally re-landscaping the yard and garden, and choosing new posts for the porch - which would need to be replaced asap.

So I waited happily...
And waited...
And waited...

Only to receive the following message from my son's friend (and real estate agent) Donovan:

4 bidders, cutoff hit, 56,4. Sorry.

WHAT?

I didn't get it???
I didn't get it!
Oh sh**, oh sh**, oh sh**!

Then ensued some fast and furious messages back and forth:

Donovan: Wanna offer 65 to winner? From josh.

Me: can we do that?

Donovan: If you have money its time to offer it, yes we can if want. Yes or no?

Me: Yes! No! Yes! I mean No! That high?

Donovan: What do want to offer at max.

Me: Make it 60. Are they aware of the illegal septic that will need to be removed from the neighboring property immediately, or of the drug-using squatters that are currently in residence and trashing the place as we speak ... or the fact that a haz-mat cleaning team will need to be brought in because of the druggies?

Me again: Hello? Are you still there? Hello?? HELLO? Donovan? Josh? Where ARE you?? Talk to me! I'm going crazy here... what's going ON???

At this point, whimpering unashamedly, (as well as rather piteously) I decided that since I had left it all in the hands of God... maybe He knew better than I did.
After all, he knew what I was asking for, because dozens of people had been adding their prayers to mine... and this seemed like a pretty clear "no" on his part.
So I would just buck up immediately, take a deep breath, square my shoulders and realize that my dream wasn't necessarily what God had planned for me - and let it go.
HIS will...not my will be done.

Okay, so goodbye, sweet dream...

Goodbye, dreams of my son walking a mere 70 feet, to bring his mama a cup of coffee in the mornings...
Goodbye, dreams of my grandsons joyfully running down the driveway to spend time with their loving Grummie...
Goodbye, all thoughts of the beautiful walnut kitchen cabinets with white imitation-granite counter tops that were the exact configuration and layout that we needed... that Josh had found on craigslist for only $1,000.
Sob... sniff sniff...

And then I heard a "ping" !!!
Josh was on 'instant chat' on face book...

It seems that the agent who had bid for their client (the winning client - damn them) had never so much as looked at the house. And neither had the client so much as looked at the house - or property - bidding solely and wholly on the place as an investment property.
More fools them, eh?

Once they (the real estate agent and buyer) found out that there were humongous drawbacks - as well as expenses - associated with the property, it's been intimated that the client may not be as interested as they thought they were.
Unfortunately, they signed an agreement with the county prior to bidding, that meant that they were legally required to go through with the sale...
But they may very well offer the property to us for their buying price... plus the real estate agent fees involved.

They'll let us know this week.
You know..."may very well offer" doesn't sound entirely optimistic, but it's the best we can hope for at this point.

So I posted a status update on face book:
UPDATE! It's not over 'til the fat lady sings, so I may not have lost the property in Murphys after all !!! More later...

To which my son commented back: "she may be singin' within' the week, lets just hope we can afford the concert tickets"

So the wait continues...
Dammit.

Rest In Peace, sweet Matthew

2010-12-04T15:02:00.006+11:00

Friday afternoon, I got the call that I’ve been dreading for months now.

Matthew was back home from the hospital, but they had brought him home for the very last time... and the end was near.
I wanted to go see him that night, but due to work commitments, I didn’t get the chance.

So, I got up early Saturday morning and prepared myself for the sad task of going to say goodbye to a gorgeous little boy... a little boy who had captured my heart - and the hearts of everyone who knew him - from the very beginning...

Just as we were getting ready to leave, I got a call from Mary – Matthew's grandmother - who told me that Matthew had passed away peacefully, just after midnight the night before.

I never got the chance to say goodbye to him, but I know that he knew that my thoughts and my heart were with him... always.

Matthew Lizzul
February 25, 2002 – December 4, 2010

Rest in Peace, my darling boy.

Katie loves you... for always and forever

~~~~

Please say a prayer for Matthews' Mother, Sue... his Grandmother Mary... and his sisters Emily and Caitlin. I can't even imagine what they're going through right now, so please ask God to lift them up and give them peace...

When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart,

and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

~Kahlil Gibran

(For those of you who don't know, Matty was one of my daycare children... and I was blessed to be able to take care of him on a respite arrangement - for several wonderful years - so that his mother could have a bit of a break a few times a week.

Sue's middle daughter Caitlin also has serious issues, (autism, epilepsy and a brain tumor) so this wonderful woman has certainly had her hands full - as does her older daughter Emily...

Emily, who has always been a rock, a helping hand, and a complete blessing to her mum.

Sue's one of those people who no matter how hard life is for her personally, she's always there for other people... and I can't begin to tell you how many times she reached out to me, when I was sick or feeling down.

I would call her and say I wouldn't be available today because of a migraine or whatever... and a few hours later, Sue would bring me flowers, or go out of her way to make me smile, or to cheer me up.

Sue trusted me to not only care for Matty, but Caitlin as well..., and I'll always be eternally grateful for the trust she's shown in me, and also for the joy that her entire family has brought me.)

God well and truly blessed me, when he brought this beautiful family into my life...

I can't even get a snail drunk...

2010-11-30T04:57:00.004+11:00

And another sad tale

You know the straw bales I told you about, a few posts back?

Well , they're doing great... and I'm really enjoying experimenting with them.

Unfortunately, the bales are doin' good... real good...but the plants themselves aren't.

Well some of them are, and I have to say that the tomatoes are simply flourishing and lovin' their new home, as are the peppers... but I can't say the same for the 14 zucchini plants I planted.

They were trying to flourish, and for the first day or so, it did my heart good to go out there and watch 'em puttin' on new baby leaves and shooting up.

But then disaster struck, and I'm now down to 3 pitiful little zucchini specimens.

And what was this disaster?

Slugs and snails!

Slimy, slippery, disgustingly voracious little bastards they are!

I went out one morning and had a look at the plants, and noticed that several seemed to be missing.

So I investigated further, and found slimy trails, and then a couple of little slugs happily munching their way through the stems of MY zucchini plants!

And they were lookin' at me... and even smiling at me, as they munched away at those tender juicy, potentially bountiful stems.

No worries, sez I.

I will simply put out some hollowed out orange skins on each bale, along with some coffee grounds scattered around the plants themselves.

Because I read in a book that that's a sure-fire way of getting rid of slugs and snails without resorting to snail bait.

Snail bait that's toxic to cats and birds and who knows what else.

And I have to say ... it worked.

The first night anyway.

See, what you have to do with the orange skins is simply place them out... and the slugs and snails will flock to them. And then you go out (several times) after dark, and dispose of the full-to-the-brim-with-slug-and-snails orange skins... into a bag with salt in it.

Which I did.

Several times the first night.

But only once the second night... because it started raining.

And risking pneumonia for the sake of zucchini plants that I might not live to eat the fruit of, seemed kind of silly to me.

And besides...the coffee grounds had sort of washed down into the bales, kind of defeating the whole purpose of irritating the damn slugs and snails tummy's' as they crawled across it, on their way to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

So... I decided that 8 zucchini plants were probably enough for any one person, because I simply couldn't drink enough coffee, or eat enough oranges and grapefruits to keep the vast hoards of gastropods under control.

And that's when I resorted to beer.

Okay, so I tried drinking it myself first... but then figured that me being half tipsy wasn't doing a bloody thing to protect my plants... so I started setting out tuna cans of beer for the snails.

I mean... Who wants to party alone, anyway, eh?

I set out 5 cans filled to the brim with beer, and happily went back inside.

And when I went out to check about an hour later, I saw vast herds of slugs and snails racing towards the beer... with sculling some primo ale with their mates, on their slimy little minds.

And I smiled to myself a little.... knowing that they were in for the surprise of their soon-to-be-annihilated little lives.

The next morning, I went out with visions of counting bodies in the hundreds...

But there wasn't one damn snail or slug in any of those cans.

Not a one!

Just my luck to be blessed with teetotal snails, eh?

They didn't even get high on the fumes, as far as I know!!

So I tried another brand of beer.

The Old Guys (expensive) favorite.

No luck there either.

Crap.

I'm now down to 3 miserable little zucchini plants and one pitiful half eaten apple cucumber plant, as well as the healthy tomato and pepper plants... and today I'll be putting out 6 more peppers of various descriptions, and about 10 cilantro plants as well.

And I'm not ashamed to say...I'm resorting to snail bait.

Screw 'em.

Another sad tale...

We're now getting closer and closer to the date of the auction on my little dream house, (Dec 10) and I've been "praying without ceasing"... that the little beauty will be mine.

Now I don't often pray for myself, but I figured as long as I was praying for others, God wouldn't mind me asking for something for myself for a change.

I also asked him to give me a sign that this was meant to be...

Something that I would have no trouble recognizing, because to tell you the truth, sometimes I have to be hit over the head with stuff... you know?

So every now and again, I would smell a lovely fresh piney smell, sort of mixed with the smell of "mountain misery" - and it smelled just like home.

Sunlight on pine trees, dry, crushed pine needles.. and the heady fragrance a local plant...

Mountain Misery

And everytime that I smelled it, my heart would swell and tears would spring to my eyes... because God was giving me a sign - just like I asked - in answer to my prayers.

And then one day I noticed that the smell was particularly strong in the bathroom, and I figured that that was just because it's quieter and less hectic in there, with nothing else to draw my attention.

And my heart swelled and tears started rolling down my cheeks... because I knew in my heart that God was listening to me.

Until I flushed, that is.

And then I realized that it was only the toilet bowl gel.

And that God has a sense of humor...

Holding my breath...

2010-11-19T06:41:00.005+11:00

Good news!

Well sort of good news anyway. It's really too early to crow or dance at this point... but I just can't stop myself from being excited!
I couldn't sleep last night, and when I got up this morning, I was still so excited, that I just couldn't settle - or even concentrate on much.

Which was borne out when I poured myself a cup of coffee... and somehow forgot to have a cup waiting!
Hot coffee went everywhere (none on me, thank goodness) but even while I was cleaning the mess up, I was grinning like a possum!

See, the little house adjoining my sons place in Murphys, has finally been listed as "in default" and will go to auction on the 10th of December!
I want it so bad that I can taste it... and my son and I have been busy making plans, transferring funds, and getting all our little ducks in a row, in anticipation of bidding on the big day!

Now there are several things "wrong" with the place, that we're hoping and praying will work to our advantage...
For one thing, the septic is actually across the boundary line, and it sits on on my daughter-in-laws property.
Which is illegal.
So if anyone else buys the property, they're going to insist that the septic be immediately removed - and placed elsewhere.
Only there really is no "elsewhere" that doesn't involve pumping the septic uphill - which would be a very costly maneuver all the way around.
Which would also cancel out any thoughts of them *getting a bargain*.

It's also butted up right against the DIL's driveway on the left hand side, and although that means nothing to me and I can live with the family driving past, it will hopefully be a deterrent to anyone else hoping to bid.

The house isn't in real good repair but it is liveable... and with my handy-dandy son right next door, a lot of the repairs and renovations can actually be done before I even leave here.
And they can be done on the cheap, since he refuses to accept any "labor costs" from his mama.
Good boy that he is...
And... if we can get the place cheap enough, we can put more money - money that would have been spent on the purchase price- into renovations.
Which would make it a "win-win" situation.

Sadly, the woman who owned the place was/is a druggie, and supposedly there's a lot of damage to the kitchen countertops (burn marks) as well as damage to other areas from her cooking her drugs and her just not giving a damn about upkeep.

Now, if this were regular circumstances and this person had lost her house or her job due to the poor ecomomy in California right now, and she just couldn't keep up the payments... my heart would be seriously hurting at the thought of gaining because of someone elses misfortune.

But the facts are, she borrowed a huge amount of money from the bank, and then never got around to making her repayments, or paying the property taxes on the property.
It all went on drugs.
I do still feel sorry for her though...

There've been people looking at the property since it was listed, so the other day my son took his noisiest dirt bike to the bottom of the drive and proceeded to vroom and squeal all along the fenceline and driveway... throwing up dirt and rocks and having a good ol' time.
Which may not be exactly "nice".... but it is something that he and the grandsons do on a regular basis anyway.
It's something I can live with... but it's hopefully something other people would kind of object to.
Now all we need to do is get some nice smelly hogs right along the fenceline... and maybe some empty beer kegs and shot gun shells scattered around...

But... if you're the praying kind, could you please say some prayers for me?
Could you pray that everything pans out the way we hope it will and we get the property... so that I can get back home, where I belong?

You can lead a horse to water...

2010-11-18T08:05:00.003+11:00

But you can't make him eat his dinner!

I don't know who let the Young Lad get away with eating only what he wants, but let me tell you... the kid is driving me bonkers when it comes to meal times!

He "only" likes certain foods, and no matter what I make or how I try and adapt it for him, he always says "I don't like this" and he pushes it away.

Fair enough... There are plenty of things I don't like either, but let me tell ya something, lad...

I am NOT running a restaurant here, and you either eat what I present to you, or you can go hungry.

Pure and simple.

I don't know what his past carers were like, but somewhere along the line, the lad has decided that he only likes spaghetti bolognase and garlic bread.

Or fast food.

I do know that when he goes to visit his mother on Tuesdays, he always comes home stuffed from eating fish and chips, and when I asked what's his favorite meal that mum makes is, he said "fish and chips from the takeaway"

He's slowly learning the rules of this household... but not fast enough to suit me!

He doesn't eat pork chops.

He only likes instant mashed potatoes.

Veggies make him feel sick.

He won't eat anything with butter in it or on it.

Milk is only for cows...

And salad is the worst thing ever invented.

He 'does' like my Sloppy Joes though, and will ask for seconds or thirds, but he refuses to eat the salad that's on his plate.

Oy Vey!!

Man can NOT live by Sloppy Joes alone, Lad!!

(But please don't tell him that I would like to give it a try, myself!! But the difference between us is, that I would more than happily eat the salad.)

All in all - eating habits notwithstanding - Lad has settled in extremely well... and it's working for both of us.

He's getting used to the rules and regulations, decent homecooked meals and a regular bedtime, as well as doing chores and using his manners at all times.

I'm getting used to loud music, a myriad of strange looking girls lurking around outside the house, and continual boy messes.

Oh... and scraping his plate into the garbage...

We Remember ...

2010-11-12T07:48:00.003+11:00

There's nothing else that I can add... other than

God Bless Our Veterans!

Makin' hay while the sun shines...

2010-11-06T07:39:00.009+11:00

Or maybe that should be "makin' straw bale gardens" while the sun shines.
Either way, this is what I've been up to lately.

I've been taking a bunch of straw bales, and turning into this: (potentially anyway...)

Or maybe even this:

At this point, I really dunno know what I'm doing, but I'm having fun doing it, anyway.

In a nutshell, what you do is take a straw bale (not a hay bale, but a straw bale), turn it on it's side, water it thoroughly for a couple of days or a week until the breaking down process starts, and then you simply plant your plants - veggie or flowers - directly into the bale.
Theoretically, it cuts down on weeds, watering and bugs... but time will tell, I guess.

Now when I ran across this idea, it sounded super easy and extremely cheap.
But I forgot for a moment that I'm livin' in Oz.
There's nothing cheap about buying a plain old straw bale here.
Everywhere I looked, I was looking at prices in the neighborhood of $11 and up (mostly up) - per bale that is - which is almost quadruple the cost that the US website recommended.

But ... I figure that once I get a seasons worth of growing out of it, it can then be used for mulching or whatever, so the idea of "dual purpose" made the exorbitant price seem a little more bearable.

I ended up starting out with 4 bales, and had them all nicely placed and the breaking down process started, but then we ended up with some hellacious rains and when it rains hard here, my patio ends up getting flooded.

So I moved the bales to the edge of the patio, to sort of keep the water from flowing in so badly.
And it worked.
The problem now is, is now that the bales are so heavy with water, I'll have to get someone to come help me shift them back to where they were in the first place.
IF they don't start breaking up on me, that is.
If they do, my "dual purpose" bales may end up being nothing more than bloody expensive mulch after all.
Or costly cat litter, once it's tossed on the garden.

I'll try and get some pictures of my own, once I get the bales back in place, okay?
But as helpful as the Old Guy is, that may well be the "twelfth of never"...
I know the Young Lad would be willing to try and help, but he's pretty small for his age and he even had trouble moving them when they were fairly dry.
Plus, all the grunting and groaning coming from them both, (while I moved 2 of them with sort-of ease) made my ears hurt.

And they call women the weaker sex?
Ha! yeah, right!!

Ahhh...the joys of boys...

2010-10-24T08:35:00.005+11:00

Sort of anyway.

On Friday night, young lad asked if he could have his friend "T" sleep over on Saturday night.
Well, I immediately kicked right into "mama mode" and said that I needed to talk to - and to meet - "T's" mother first before I would give them any decision.
I ended up meeting her that evening... and came to find out that I already knew her, (she cares for special needs kids as well) so I ended up saying "yes" to the sleepover.

And then kicked myself all night long because I knew what I was getting myself into.
I knew it because I've "been there, done that" before. With 3 teenagers, how could I not have?
There would be copious amounts of food and drink... the smell of dueling farts... and raucous and sleep-depriving noise all night long.

By Saturday night, I was still sort of undecided as to what I was going to do...
Do I stay up all night and keep an eye on things while pretending that I wasn't... (the least favorite of my choices) or do I just make sure there's plenty of food in the fridge, make sure the insurance is up-to-date, have the fire extinguisher handy, and then leave it all in the hands of God - while I got some shut-eye?

Okay... I went for the "hands of God" option.
You knew that I would, didn't you?

They also asked if we could drop them off at the Sunday market this morning, so that they could have a bit of a wander around, and when I asked what time, they said... "hmmm... about 12 o'clock?"

Nah... that won't work, boys. Since the market shuts down at 1 o'clock you won't have enough time to see everything - so how about we make it 9:30 or 10 instead?
With a small amount of eye-rolling (it's a teenagers job, after all) they agreed.

Now somewhere in the back of their empty little male teenager minds, they knew that a late, late night would keep 'em from sleeping in this morning, so low and behold, when I got up at 12:50 to go to the toilet, all the lights, tv's, xboxes, PS 2's radio's and all were shut off... and the only sound I could hear was two boys snoring in tandem.

I won't even begin describe my kitchen though.
And you'll probably be grateful that I didn't.

How 2 teenage boys could go through half a Costco sized jar of peanut butter and 2 loaves of bread is beyond me, not to mention the chips and salami and assorted cookies not to mention having used a different plate for each snack...
But I guess it was a small price to pay for not having to call the insurance company.

Or having to use the fire extinguisher.

But while they're off to the market this morning, I'm goin' back to bed.
Just because I can.

And when they get home, they can clean the kitchen, and the room...

This is NOT the room.

You know how I can tell? Young lads backpack is a totally different color.

Settling in...

2010-10-23T05:53:00.003+11:00

Well, my "family options" lad arrived last Monday and we've spent the week 'settling in' and getting used to one another, but I have to tell you.... this is nothing like what I had expected.
He is nothing like what I had expected.

I was told that he had a 'mild intellectual disability' and some physical problems as well... and although the physical issues are pretty noticable, (and easily dealt with) when it comes to the
"intellectual disabilities" side of things, I'm at a complete and utter loss as to what they're talking about.
I'm just baffled.

Okay, he may not be real good at some subjects in school (hey, we all have strengths and weaknesses, don't we?) but as far as I can see, this is a pretty typical 16 year old boy that I'm dealing with.
He's personable, likeable, engaged - and engaging.

Of course, I know that he'll have his moments... but at this point in time, I'm thinking that those moments will be mostly along the lines of a "sometimes surly, sometimes lovable" typical everyday teenager.

I've raised teenagers.
They can be a joy... and then again, there are times when you just want to tear your hair out and scream... and you can understand fully why some species eat their young.
But they're going through a difficult period - the very same period that we all went through on the journey to adulthood ... and let's face it, it ain't always easy - or pretty.

I'm under no delusions here, and I know that the ~~shit~~ poop will more likely than not, eventually hit the fan...
But so far, so good...
You know what I mean?

And the "Feelin' Groovy" continues... mostly

2010-10-17T08:54:00.003+11:00

I am simply amazed... AMAZED, I tell you, that I feel so damn good after sleeping on nothing more than a water pillow for a couple of nights!
I didn't realize just how bad I actually felt, until I started in feeling so good again!

Even yesterday's antics of moving heavy a** furniture for 5 hours didn't do a thing to me, and to tell you the truth, I was a bit worried that I might have undone all the good that Dr Dreamy did for me, whilst hoisting and setting up an antique solid wood bed for the boy.

I'm full of vim and vigor this morning... and wonder of wonders, I'm even in the mood to go shopping for bedding for the bed!
Now this probably doesn't mean much to you, but I'll tell you a secret.

I HATE shopping.
I hate it with with a passion.

I think I would rather poke myself in the eye with a sharp stick, than venture into some store with rude sales clerks and ignorant pushy customers.
Yet this morning, I'm chompin'' at the bit, to get out there and spend some money!

I won't be spending too much though...

My sweet little (little? Ha!) cat "Bear Bottom" had some sort of seizure last night. He fell right off the table, and never made any attempt to right himself on the way down, so either he was so out of it that he didn't know what to do, or he was passed out or something.
After the fall, he tried to get up and his back legs went all wonky - which sort of freaked him out a bit, so he just kind of laid there flopping while making hissy/huffy noises.
I was keeping an eye on him, but when he just sat there and peed himself, I figured it was time for an emergency vet visit.

Unfortunately, the vet couldn't find anything wrong with him, but they did take xrays and blood work - and they wanted to keep him in for observastion - but I decided to bring him home and let him sleep with me for the night.

He seems fine this morning, but since is the second seizure I've seen, I want him throughly checked out... and that's gonna involve plenty of $$'s I think.

So, I'm off to Big W in a bit to buy some sheets and pillow cases...
And if he's good, I might even buy Bear a new mouse to perk him up...
A small, cheap one of course.

Feelin' Groovy...

2010-10-16T06:50:00.005+11:00

For the last nine weeks ( trust me, I've checked my diary) I've been sleeping horribly.

Really horribly... as in little or no sleep, and I've been in constant pain - which is only alleviated when I get up out of bed and pace around for most of the night.

I go to bed absolutely dead on my feet, drift off to sleep as normal, but then wake about an hour or two later feeling like someone is sticking a hot knife in my sinus cavities and the pain radiates all down my neck and throat.

So of course, I just figured it was sinus related... you know?

So I went to the doctor.

Not once or twice, but three times, and he did absolutely nothing for the pain, telling me that I had "facial neuralgia" and I would just have to learn to live with it.

Yeah... as if I could survive getting by on 2 or 3 hours sleep a night?

Get out!

I tried everything I could think of... from sinus tablets, pain killers, to using a Neti Pot, hot compresses, an infrared massager...

And NOTHING worked.

In desperation, I made an appointment with the chiropractor (he's so cute that I don't know why I didn't think of him sooner - if only for the eye candy factor ) and he took x rays... and then told me that my neck was severely pinched, causing a bundle of nerves in my neck to affect my face.

I was a bit leery since I've heard it all for the last nine weeks, but I figured I had nothing to lose - and I went ahead and had the "adjustment".

Well, the pain stopped almost instantly, and I slept through the night for the first time in months.

I was due to go back the next day, but had to cancel the appointment - and I went right back to being in agony again.

So I made another appointment for the day before yesterday, and within minutes he again alleviated all the pain.

But he also recommended that I use a water pillow - which he just happened to sell right there in his office.

And I thought "yeah sure... and just how much is this "special water pillow" gonna cost me?"

That's when the Old Guy stepped in, and said that if it would help me, he would buy it for me.

(I think that he did it because it comes with a full 90 day guarantee, and if it didn't work, he would get his money back, but at least he offered, eh?)

So we bought the pillow... even though I was still a little bit unsure about it working the miracles that the chiroprator said it would.

By the time we got home, I was starting to get a little bit excited about it, and I couldn't wait to fill it and try and maybe - just maybe - get a good nights sleep for a change.

So I filled that sucker with the 5 litres (about 5 quarts) of water like the chiro recommended, (5 quarts because I have broad shoulders, which means a higher shoulder to neck ratio) did all the squishing and pummeling to distribute the water that he said to do, and I gave it a try.

Well, it felt okay, but I was still hesitant... and I decided to give it the true test.

I would go to bed without using hot compresses, infrared massage, tablets or any of the other things that I've been using for nine weeks... and just see what it could actually do.

And it worked!

But since I had already had one good nights sleep last week after the adjustment, I felt that maybe it was just the adjustment and not the pillow that had done the trick.

So last night was the ultimate test...

No adjustment, no pills or potions or trying to get to sleep tricks - and I used just the pillow.

And this morning?

I have to honestly say that I haven't felt this good in years !!!

No lie.

No pain waking me up in the night, no neck or shoulder stiffness or hungover feeling at all - and I feel like a new woman!

I feel great!!!!

Is it the pillow?

Or is it just that the adjustments have kicked in?

I dunno... but I'm honestly "Feelin' Groovy" this morning!!!

If you're in pain and want a good nights sleep, I highly recommend trying the Chiroflow pillow - especially since it comes with a money-back guarantee. Which I won't be taking advantage of now... Believe me!!

And the chiropractor?

This is what he looks like.

Pity I don't need him anymore...

(This is actually the singer Shannon Noll... but he could pass for Dr Davids' identical twin!)

Hey wait! On second thought... the pillow probably won't work with the occasional pain in my feet and ankles... so I guess I'll just have to go back and see him again anyway...

Lucky me, eh? : )

Planned parenthood

2010-10-14T05:15:00.006+11:00

On Monday the 18th at 2:30pm, I'm having a baby!

Well, not exactly a baby, but a 16 year old boy... A boy who needs a family and security and a whole lotta lovin' - so it's basically the same thing, isn't it?

I'm already envisioning constant feeds, being kept awake at night, and a perpetual stinkin' mess around here.
Although I'm just grateful that there won't be any burping going on.
Oh wait... this is a 16 year old boy... so I guess that there will probably be plenty of burping and bottom burping going on.

Yay me.

Anyway, with him coming in just 5 days, I'm down to the wire here as far as preparations go.
He'll need a bed, clothing, and food and all the stuff that a 16 year old thinks is necessary for his well-being.
Like an X-Box and access to a computer because he considers himself to be a face book addict.
And especially, a never ending supply of food.

It just kind of breaks my heart to think of a young man getting to the age of 16 and basically having nothing that he can call his own... you know what I mean?
No stuff of his own, other than what basically fits in a backpack...
And although life isn't about - or shouldn't be about - what we have or don't have as far as things go, I still think that what we own in life - our stuff - sort of defines us as being "us".

I had the caseworker out here last week, and he shared some of Mr.B's history... as well as a form that Mr. B had filled out all by himself, listing his needs and wants and likes and dislikes... And I swear, after reading that list, I was on the verge of tears.

Now, this is a boy "classified" as having an intellectual disability, but if that list and the things he had written on that list are anything to go by, he's well ahead of the average 16 year old when it comes to explaining things, and having insights into his own personality.

This boy knows his limitations... but he also knows how to communicate the reasons that he sometimes acts the way he does... and from what little I've read, he has amazing insight into the issues that he faces.

I have high hopes for this placement working out, and I think that we just might be damned good for one another.

And the best part of having an almost fully grown boy?
No diapers.
Unless they're saving that one as a surprise...

I think I'm in love...

2010-10-06T07:29:00.006+11:00

See, I've always looked for a man who was strong and manly...
A man who's willing to jump right on in and kick some arse, when the proverbial arse's need kicking...
Someone tall, dark and handsome, who can along with his other manly talents, make me roll on the floor laughing.

And I think I've found him...

May I present my latest heart-throb.

“You got your judy chop, your karate chop and your ninjy chop.”... DIEMON DAVE!

Thanks to Gizzards & Calf Fries...
I've never laughed so hard in ages!!!

Cup of Joe for a Joe

2010-09-19T05:00:00.003+10:00

A few weeks back, I joined an amazing and inspiring facebook page:

Cup of Joe for a Joe.

"Say THANKS by buying a Cup of Joe.

Send it with your own personal message of encouragement to a deployed Soldier."

For the last several weeks, I've been buying a deployed "Joe" or "Jane" a Cup of Joe whenever I can... and this morning, I got to send another 5 cups off - thanks to several $2 donations from friends.

It's such a little thing to do for our brave men and women, in light of what they do for us - by putting their very lives on the line on a daily basis.

So please check out their facebook page - and buy a cup of coffee or tea for a deployed soldier... (or you can go directly to: ► ►

Green Beans Coffee

Let Our Troops Know You Care!

Buy a Cup of Joe for a Soldier Serving Far From Home And Have It Delivered With Your Own Personal Note of Encouragement...

In our travels to see the Troops, many share with us their sense of loneliness, isolation and feelings of being forgotten. Their commanders tell us that some Soldiers never receive mail from home. In response, Green Beans Coffee has launched Cup of Joe For A Joe to let anyone, anywhere in the world, say thanks to our troops through the simple act of buying a cup of coffee and having it delivered along with their own personal note of encouragement into the hands of a deployed Soldier.

Here's How it Works:

Step 1 - Choose Your Gift
You provide a different Soldier a Cup of Joe gift with each $2 you spend. Use the panel at the upper right to choose the amount you want, then click the Buy a Cup of Joe button.

Step 2 - Write Your Message
You'll see a simple form to write your message of support to the lucky troops who will receive your gift.

Step 3 - Enter Your Payment Information (they accept paypal)
It's simple, safe and secure.

Step 4 - We'll Deliver Your Gift
Green Beans Coffee will deliver your gift and message. We'll also give each Soldier a chance to respond – and most of them do, so watch your email for their letters!

I had another thought this morning while enjoying my first cup of the day...

I always have coffee available for when friends drop by, and let me tell you, I can go through a lot of it.

So... I've decided that from now on, I'm going to be asking for a $2 donation for that cup of coffee - bottomless of course - to put just a few more $$'s in the kitty ...so that I can send even more COJ's to our wonderful deployed soldiers.

Busy Baby Bakers... Crustless Quiche

2010-09-18T07:36:00.008+10:00

I can't remember if I told y'all that I no longer work for the council doing child care.
Did I?
Oh, I'm still caring for children, but I'm doing it privately now... and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Several of my clients (parents) have mentioned that I look so much happier and care-free, and I know that they're right. I almost don't know myself.
I just wish they would tell me that I look 10 years younger, but although I've kind of 'hinted" in that direction, no one's said it yet.
But I'm sure they will.
Eventually.

And... I'm even sleeping better.
See, there are no more worries about ridiculous regulations, no more stressing over someone 'popping in' to do an unannounced evaluation... (which I absolutely hated, because it threw the kids off something awful ...and they tended to "act up" for company - figuring they could get away with it)
No programming for weeks in advance, along with multitudes of lists... and best of all, no more mind numbing, soul destroying office politics.

So, the kids and I can now just get down to the important things like playing - when and where we want to - and sometimes cooking.

Yesterday, I had 3 babies in care... a 17 month old, a 10 month old and a wee little 9 month old - as well as a *big girl* who will proudly tell anyone who will listen that "I'm sour years old now - and I know everything."
And since the day was cold, drizzly and miserable... and we had no intentions of going outside, I decided we would stay inside and do some baking.

The babies sat on the floor and quite happily played with wooden spoons and mixing bowls - and stirred everything 'round and 'round...
While the *big girl* and I got down to the serious business of measuring flour and butter and tearing curly kale, beating eggs and smooshing bananas.

And we had an absolute ball doing it!

At the end of the day, we ended up with 4 loaves of banana bread, 3 curly kale quiches, and 2 small apple tarts - and we were happily covered in flour and eggs and green speckles!

Now, I love, love, LOVE quiche at the best of times... but the ones we made yesterday were bloody fantastic!

Quick, easy - and completely crust less.
Which is probably a good thing, because I've been known to break off bits of the crust and eat it while waiting to serve dinner - leaving it looking less than perfect.
Okay, well ugly - if you really need to know.
(I always blame it on the cats though... and then the Old Guy is even less willing to eat it. Which is no major feat... since he doesn't really like quiche anyway. Fool that he is.
And then I get his share.)

Impossible Quiche

I used about 2 cups torn curly kale - or you can use your own choice of fillings. (see below)
1 1/2 cups grated cheese (any kind - or mix and match)
1/2 cup self raising flour
1 1/2 cups milk
3 Tablespoons melted butter
4-5 eggs, lightly beaten (depending on size)

Combine all ingredients, and mix well.
Pour mixture into a lightly greased cast iron skillet, or pie pan. ( I use a skillet)
Bake at 180C (350F) for 40-45 minutes.
Filling is *set* when a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Serves 6.

I love this recipe, because it really lets you experiment and there aren't any hard or fast rules... Feel free to use ham, bacon, chorizo, shredded chicken, leftover meats...

You can try tomatoes, grated carrots, capsicums (bell peppers), cabbage, spinach, kale, corn etc ...
Actually, anything your sweet little heart desires!

Well, except maybe Skittles. "Sour year old" saw a bag of Skittles in the pantry and thought they would make a lovely and mouth-watering color combination, mixed up with the yellow eggs and green kale.
But I quickly put the kibosh on that one.

This recipe is so easy that you almost can't make a mistake.

Unless you're silly enough to use Skittles...

Rats are eating my brains...

2010-09-13T07:42:00.007+10:00

Oh Lordy... I had my first migraine when I was just about 2 years old, and I can still remember being scared that I would die or that brain stuff was going to come out my ears and I was too frightened to move.
My mama understood what I was going through, because she had them herself... but the good news was that I had what were called "juvenile migraines" - and the doctors promised me that I would outgrow them.

I guess in one way I did... but sadly, they just morphed into "adult migraines" with little or no let up.
Every few weeks, the black brain eating rats of death would come on me, and I spent far too many years laying on the bathroom floor, only rousing enough to stick my head in the toilet.

I learned that there were "triggers" and I learned to avoid them... but although avoiding the triggers 'sometimes' lessened the subsequent attacks, they never went away entirely.

I learned to pay attention to the prodromes... those funny little signs like flashing zig-zag lights, or smelling rotten oranges or numb dead feeling hands or feet or even burps that felt like they were coming from the very soles of my feet - that always told me that a migraine was waiting in the wings and getting ready to pounce.

Prodromes:

flashing lights, wavy lines, spots, partial loss of sight, blurry vision
olfactory hallucinations (smelling odors that aren't there - like rotten oranges)
tingling or numbness of the face or extremities on the side where the headache develops

cold hands or feet
difficult finding words and/or speaking like you're drunk
confusion
vertigo
partial paralysis
auditory hallucinations
decrease in or loss of hearing
reduced sensation
hypersensitivity to feel and touch

Yawning

food craving

depression

altered mood

fatigue

hot ears

euphoria

irritability

stiff neck muscles

diarrhea

queasy stomach symptoms

constipation and increased urination

and burping.

I learned long, long ago to lock myself in a dark room (and to always have a bucket handy) and to try and sleep it off.
Losing untold years of my life - and missing out on my children's lives, in the process.

Then when I was in my 30's, I was told that menopause would be the end of them. My hormone levels would change... yada yada yada.
Bring it on, baby!

But again... They lied.
That blessed, longed-for day came and went about 5 years ago.
And although I had a short break from the fortnightly or monthly migraines, they came back with a vengeance.

I've tried every cure known to man - from Cafergot suppositories stuck up my bum with 4 hour regularity, ('scuse me for being gross here, but I'm just being honest) to triptan medications, calcium channel blockers to beta-blockers, tricyclic anti-depressants like amitriptyline and nortriptyline to anti-epileptic drugs and steroids.

To soaking my feet and hands in near boiling water to pull the blood out of my head... to foot massages and back rubs to full-blown 2 hour professional massages.
Bio-feedback and acupuncture... I've done it all.

And some of 'em work.
Temporarily.
And some of them don't work at all.

The best I've ever had is 6 months of being pain free after an acupuncture treatment.
So when they started coming back, I again rushed to the acupuncturist for ongoing treatments... and got no results at all.
Nothing.
The rats in my head had set up house, and weren't going to leave for any reason.

I've learned to live with my brain eating rats of black death.
But oh my sweet Jesus... how many years have I lost in the process?
How many years - not to mention open house at school nights, baseball games, or karate demonstrations or Saturdays at the pool, did I miss out on in my children's lives?
How many times did they have to get themselves off to school, or fix their own dinners while their mom was laid up in bed with a towel wrapped around her head trying to block out all light, sounds and smells?

How many times did other mothers have to step in on my behalf, so that my kids could go swimming at the pool or lake with their friends, or even get to their various activities?
How many dollars have I spent fruitlessly trying to at least "contain" the pain - if not trying cure it?
And how well do I know what the inside of my toilet bowl looks like?

This current "rats are eating my brain and I can't open my left eye" episode has gone on for 4 days now, and the latest pain injection (sumatriptan) has done absolutely jack sh**.
The anti-emetic injection (anti-barf stuff) is working though - thank God - because the only thing worse than a migraine is puking my toenails up while my head feels like it's about to explode and splatter my brains all over the porcelain throne.

This is a cruel disease, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

Does anybody have a chainsaw I can borrow?

We will never forget...

2010-09-12T07:47:00.004+10:00

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor.

We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children. “

~ President George W. Bush, November 11, 2001

We will never forget...

Where were you when you heard the news? Please share your memories.

Wicked weather this way comes...

2010-09-05T07:28:00.019+10:00

We've had some wicked weather this weekend, but thankfully things seem to have settled down. for now.

After the wettest August in something like 37 years, September's also come in with a vengeance. It seems that we got half of our monthly rainfall total in less than 12 hours, and it's due to keep up for at least the next week. We didn't fare too badly here, but there was some pretty wide spread damage in town, as well as nearby towns - Creswick and Clunes - really bearing the brunt of it.

Bo Peep Creek near Lake Burrumbeet

Bo Peep

Near Lake Burrumbeet

Western Highway heading out of town

The State Emergency Service advises that people should not drive, ride or walk through flood water and keep clear of creeks and storm drains. Now read that again... Slowly...
people should not drive, ride or walk through flood water and keep clear of creeks and storm drains.

So this is what they do...

It's all fun and games, guys... until someone gets swept away!

Get away from me you young whippersnapper, or I'll hit you with my cane!

Now, I wanted to drive out and have a look at some of the damage... you know, take pics and all...

But the Old Guy? All the Old Guy really wanted to do was drive out to the surrounding lakes, to check to see if they were full.

For fishing purposes, doncha know.

We got out to Cancurran yesterday (okay I don't know if I spelled that right or not) but as soon as we drove down to the boat ramp and parked, about 6 other cars followed us. And before you knew it, there are like 10 other guys standing around discussing the fishing possibilities and sharing stubbies of beer.

In the pouring rain.

The women and children are sitting in the cars, while the men stand around drinking beers and pointing out the likeliest spots for Red Fin come warmer weather.

Avoca

Creswick

Creswick

Brown Hill (a suburb of Ballarat)

Botanic Gardens, Ballarat

Just outside of town. I don't know if the pic will enlarge or not, but that's a guy on a horse trying to rescue his cattle.

That's it. I am officially declaring the drought over!

I think the guy next door is building an ark!

When one door closes...

2010-09-04T06:13:00.007+10:00

Another one opens.

Now, I didn't know that the Old Guy had been praying that I would find a way to keep the $$'s rolling in - while I do what I have to do before leaving for home - but it seems that he's been asking God to bear me up... and for something to come along so that I can keep paying bills for the next 5 or so months.

Well, I got that answer yesterday.

Out of the blue, I got a call from Pinarc - which is the service agency that I do "family options" for.

Children and young people with a disability are matched with an alternative family who will provide care for them in the family home on a long term or short term basis, or on a shared-care basis with the biological parents.

They currently have 2 young boys desperately needing care - an 8 year old and his family, with a need for "shared care" (one week on, one week off - potentially leading to full-time placement) ... and a 16 year old who needs a permanent placement right now.

Since I only have the one bedroom available, it will have to be a choice of one or the other, (or maybe neither one) but hopefully, we'll meet next week to see which one of the boys will be the best fit.
Yeah, my needs do need to be taken into consideration, but to me, well... ultimately this is about who the boys feel comfortable with, and whether or whether not they'll feel comfortable here with me.

I was talking about it to a friend last night, and she said "well, I would go with the one who pays the most" - and I was a bit stunned at her comment.

I don't do this for the money.
I never have, and I never will.
I do it for the children, and for the families involved.
Yes... the funding helps, and I have to be honest about that.

But at the end of the day it's the difference that I can make in a child's life... or with a families' continued ability to function as a family unit, that makes it all worthwhile.

Livin' the life of Riley...

2010-09-03T04:40:00.006+10:00

That's me!

I'm now officially and permanently retired from Family Day Care.
Well, mostly retired anyway.
But definitely from "Family Day Care".

I'll still be doing care - and only on a part-time basis - but I'm doin' it on my own... and best of all, I'm out from under the yoke of oppression.
And unfortunately, to me, that oppression = depression.

I enjoyed my time with them... I really did.

But there have been so many (IMO anyway) unnecessary changes since I started 10 years ago, that in some ways it didn't even resemble "family" daycare anymore.
To my mind at least.
Nowadays, it's more like it's becoming a series of highly regulated, cold and impersonal, mini daycare centers.
Just in somebodies house.

I "officially" gave my resignation date as of August 16th, but because the office never seemed to manage to find new carers for my families, I agreed to stay on a little longer, while they looked.

Some parents made other arrangements, but the others were like me.
Waiting patiently for something that just didn't happen.

But I figured that 4 weeks from official notification was enough... and that it was no reflection on me that the office couldn't - or wouldn't - find alternate care for my families.

So, as of 4:30 yesterday afternoon, this little bird finally flew the coop.

No more 4 and 5 loads of laundry a day.
No more endlessly doing dishes.
No more constantly scrubbing the loo 27 times a day.
And best of all?
No more constantly ringing phone.

I can nap when I want...
I can read when I want...
I can kick back when I want...
I can garden whenever the mood takes me....
and the cats can come back in the house.

Yep... it's sure gonna be good.

Does your husband lack performance?

2010-08-31T07:13:00.003+10:00

Does your husband lack performance?

Does he let you down, just when you expect him to come through with "the goods"?

Does he disappoint you - not only in the bedroom... but in the bathroom, kitchen and yard as well?

Do you cry yourself to sleep at night, because he's just not interested anymore?

Then you need to

Hire A Hubby!

WELCOME TO HIRE A HUBBY!

Hire A Hubby is Australia’s largest handyman business. It is our goal to provide customers from homes, offices, and factories with a complete handyman service. Examples of our maintenance services include:
Painting
Gyprock Repairs
Carpentry
Tiling
Doors & Locks
Repairs & Maintenance
Landscaping
Fencing

~~~~~

See, I'm running out of time (and money) here.

I've already spoken to the real estate agent, and we have a tentative date set for the end of September, for getting this place listed on the market.

The end of September, folks.

Just 4 weeks from now.

And nothing has been done.

No painting, no yard work, no sanding, or even so much as measuring for kitchen cabinets, so that someone else can install them.

NOTHING... other than what I've done.

I'm beginning to think that the Old Guy thinks that if he doesn't help do anything to get this place whipped into shape, that I won't actually be leaving.

He thinks that if he continues to hem and haw and dawdle around... that I might just change my mind and stay put.

Little does he realize, but that ain't gonna happen!

If I don't get the work done in time, I'm just going to have to settle for a "lower price" when this place actually goes on the market.

Either that, or I'll have to wait a little bit longer before getting the place listed.

And since I quit my job 2 weeks ago (meaning little or no income coming in now) just so I could get this work done... within another 3 weeks, I'll have to start eating into my savings.

The savings that I set aside for the renovations - just so I can pay the mortgage.

And if that happens, the Old Guy will well and truly be toast.

In fact, he'll be more than toast.

He'll be history.

Thank goodness for

Hire A Hubby...

I hope they send me one that knows how to perform!

And now that the weather is starting to warm up?

Oooh la la!

Taking time to breathe...

2010-08-30T08:54:00.005+10:00

It seems like ages since I've had time to post... and now that I have a few minutes to relax, my mind's gone all empty.
Which is kind of nice, I think.

I'm just taking time to breathe... to experience... and to revel in the timelessness of having a little bit of "time" to myself.

I'm needing it, to be sure... since the last few weeks have been fraught with sorrow and heartache, worrying and waiting.

We unexpectedly lost my dearly loved ex brother in law, and my sons' Uncle Dwight, on my birthday.
Within a month - from start to finish - cancer claimed his life.

We're now sitting on pins and needles, waiting for a beautiful child (Matthew -one of my daycare children) to take his final breath... after so many years of illness and pain.

There's been pain and loss ... yet there's been an equal and almost overwhelming joy in the releasing - and promise of release - from painful and life-debilitating bonds.

I can only imagine the rejoicing that's going on in heaven right now, with Dwight re-joining his brothers and sisters and his loving Mom.

And I can only imagine the joyful anticipation going on in heaven right now, with this gorgeous little lad on the very last leg of his journey, before returning home to the loving arms of God.

It's been a rough couple of weeks, but somehow... it's also been a joyful and peaceful time.

~~Peace on the outside, comes from knowing God on the inside.~~

And what I know is good.

I don't get no respect.

2010-08-16T10:26:00.007+10:00

In the words of Rodney Dangerfield, "I don't get no respect."
Seriously.

I spent most of the morning cleaning house, including moving all the furniture, vacuuming the floor, vacuuming the furniture (hey, I've got cats) washing the walls, and then plumping and re-arranging the pillows neatly on the sofa.

Once I was done, I poured myself a cup of coffee, and went in to sit down and have a bit of a break before tackling the bathroom, and this is what I found.

Hey.. are we comfy there?

No, I mean it. Answer me. Are we comfy there, Bear Butt?

Is this the way you found the pillows, or have you done a little bit of re-arranging of your own? Hmmm?

Never mind. I'll just go sit in the chair.

Oh cheeses... I don't get no respect!

And just FYI? Please think twice before you go and name one of your animals something cutesy or "original".
It creates some funny looks and a whole lot of embarrassment. Especially when you're at the animal doctors and the vet comes out and says to you:

Kate? You can bring your Bear Butt in now.

To thine ownself be true...

2010-08-12T07:49:00.015+10:00

To quote a couple of great men:

This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!
POLONIUS, Hamlet - Act 1 Scene 3

"I yam what I yam and tha's all what I yam."
Popeye the Sailor

Okay, I'll admit it.
I'm still dealing emotionally with the effects of that post removal the other day, and in some small way, I'm glad that I did remove it - if only to prove that I do care about what some of my friends or family think of me. Because I value and respect them.

But in other ways?
In bigger ways?
Let's just say that I regret it at the same time.
Completely and wholeheartedly.
Because I feel that I was untrue to myself.

My opinions are my opinions. ( and we all know that opinions are like arseholes - everyone has one.)
People have options in life - and sometimes those options include blocking someone, ignoring posts and status updates or sometimes just sucking in a deep breath, and facing the fact that not everyone agrees with our own personal viewpoint... and moving on.

And sometimes those options include doing something that you'll regret... simply because you weren't true to yourself.
I can either suck it up and live with the regret, or I can plant my feet firmly on the ground, hold my head up high, and say "this is who "I" am" - take it or leave it.

See...I have views - strong personal views - about what is happening in America right now.
And you can insert "Australia" in there as well, because the same thing is happening here, with the illegal boat people trying to force their way into the country.

But these are my views, and I don't expect everyone to agree with me, or even like what I have to say.
But I will defend unto death their equal and reciprocal right to their opinions, and their equal and reciprocal right to voice their opinions.

But just as I will accord anyone the right to say or feel what they think - and I will completely and utterly respect them for having the gumption to say it - I have the same rights to share my views as anyone else does.

All this has all been preying on my mind - and on my heart - for several days now... and I've come to the following conclusion.

Am I a racist?
Absolutely not.
And anyone who knows me - who truly knows me - knows that I'm not.

The dictionary defines racism as:
Discrimination or prejudice based on race or color.
So no... I don't discriminate against, nor am I prejudiced against anyone based on their ethnicity or the color of their skin.
Period.

Am I a bigot?
Absolutely not.
The legal definition of "bigot" is:
One who is strongly partial to one's own group, religion, race, or politics and is intolerant of those who differ.
I don't judge anyone - and I mean that with everything that I have in me. I'm not intolerant of anyone who's opinion, religion, race or politics... or even their wants and needs in life differ from mine.
Period

In fact, I have several close and valued friends who's opinions and ideas are the total - and complete - opposite of mine - and we're on such opposite ends of the spectrum, that we could almost be considered to come from different planets.
But do you know what?
We get along, because we accept each other for who we are as individuals, and above all else... we RESPECT one another.

But... when it comes to my opinion about illegal, unlawful immigrants in America or Australia? hey, I have to admit that just don't like what is happening.
I don't like it at all.

It's certainly not because in the US, they're predominately Mexican - because to tell you the truth, I would have the exact same opinion if Canadians, Europeans or whomever... no matter what their ethnicity or color - were coming into the USA or any other country illegally - and doing it by the thousands.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
That's the way I feel.

I would object to anyone coming in and expecting or demanding equal rights, which in far too many cases as we well know... includes expecting or demanding the right to access the very same benefits and lifestyles that Americans enjoy.
That natural born, or legally immigrated Americans have earned.
Earned through their blood sweat and tears.. as well as their long standing and honorable belief in working -and working hard - for the fruits of their labors.

Hell, I have Latino friends.
I have Jewish friends.
I have Japanese and German friends.
I have friends who parents came into the country decades ago... but they came in legally - by the proper channels - and they certainly didn't expect or demand that Americans to give up their rights to fly Old Glory or say the Pledge of Allegiance.
Nor did they demand or protest that our schools teach their children in Spanish or Yiddish, Japanese or German.

They assimilated, and they were proud and honored to become American citizens.
And our country is richer for it.
Far richer.

Looking back, the neighborhood that I grew up in just outside of San Francisco, well... it was like a mini-United Nations.
We had neighbors with last names like O'Reilly, Libertino, Xuereb, Paulson,
Garcia, Hesselgesser, Alvarado, Ronconi, Schwarz and Cohen... and my parents were close friends with them all.

My mom and dad maintained contact with each an every one of those families, despite most of them eventually moving to different parts of the country.
And when the parents and my mom eventually died, my dad maintained contact with the children of those families.
He maintained contact with the friends and playmates that I grew up with, because they were extended family.

Those were the neighbors - and many of them were immigrant neighbors - that I grew up with.
So I grew up with tolerance and complete acceptance of "immigrants".
And I grew up as well, with an open mind and an open heart.
So to be called a bigot or a racist?
It's like a knife in my heart.

Look, I'm sorry if it upsets anyone... but when it comes down to illegal, trespassing, immigrants?
No matter how I look at it, it's wrong on so many levels.

Just for instance... Say I told you that I'm battling financially here.
It's a hard job to pay the bills, buy food and meet the mortgage every month.
But I do it.
Because nothing in life is free.

But... if I wanted to cut corners, I could simply go to the next town, walk into a bank and demand that the teller give me all the money in her cash drawer.
My life would be so much easier for it... but do you think I would get away with it?
Either morally or ethically?
No... because I would be a lawbreaker.
I would be considered by almost everyone... to. be. breaking. the. law.

"The law" is defined as:
The principles and regulations established in a community by some authority and applicable to all its people, whether in the form of legislation or of custom and policies recognized and enforced by judicial decision.

So therefore, bank robbers have NO rights to someone else's money... ...and they are breaking the law if they take it, or demand it unlawfully.
If they want money, they can take out a loan or they can get a job, hit up friends or family - just like everyone else has to do.
Yeah.. it can be a battle to keep your head above water sometimes, but our laws in America require that everyone do it the same way.

So when it comes down to my personal opinion?
It should be the same with illegal immigrants.
They have NO rights, because as it currently stands - based on US law, they are breaking the law.

They are trespassers.
They need to go home, and file the correct and proper papers for legitimate immigration status.
Just like all of our forefathers did.
And then when and if they come into the USA legally, I think that they would find that most Americans would welcome them with open arms.

For centuries now, immigrants to America have been doing the right thing.
They've come in through the front door, and they've wanted to become "Americans" with all the benefits and pride that that term entails.
They never demanded that they have the right to fly their countries flag, or that they receive free medical treatment - or special treatment of any kind.
They never demanded that their children be taught in Vietnamese or Spanish or Italian.
And above all else - ABOVE ALL ELSE - they were proud to become Americans.

No one needs to be born in the USA to be an American.
But if they immigrate to to the US, they do have to have an understanding of American values... and they do have to be willing to exercise and implement those values.

Just like generations of immigrants before them have done.

Post removed

2010-08-10T11:18:00.002+10:00

I removed my last post "Proud to be an American / open letter to family and friends", due to personal reasons.

Any offence was unintended, and I apologize.

Ch-ch-changes...

2010-08-03T04:41:00.005+10:00

There's been a lot going on around here lately, and by a lot, I mean a LOT.

We're still working on the details of the house in Murphys, so that's still kind of up in the air... I'm working on scheduling renovations on this place..

And I had the appraiser in the other day to give me a ball park figure.

Now the figure wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but with the kitchen and bathroom re-do's and some new carpet, that should change considerably.

Hopefully.

But with the Ch-ch-changes part?

That's me trying to talk with my fingernails in my mouth... and my teeth chattering because I'm scared spitless.

See, I took a ~~stupid~~ giant step the other day, and I resigned my position as carer with ermm... my employer.

Effective on the 16th of August.

Like 7 days from now.

Just a few days before my birthday, actually - and kind of early birthday present to myself.

I like idiotic presents.

Obviously

Now, I'm taking a giant leap of faith... But because I have faith, I know that God will catch me, before he lets me fall flat on my face.

I hope.

God? Are you listening?

I was a little nervous about telling my 'parents' that I was quitting, but do you know what?

Almost every single parent but one asked me if I would consider continuing care - only doing it privately.

So I've quit my job... but I'll still be working.

Only this time on my terms, and with the best possible outcomes for my children in mind.

Less money, but far less stress - and that's a good thing.

But to tell you the truth?

As glad as I am to see some of these ch-ch-changes, I feel like this right now.

It's just a BIRD, for crying out loud!

2010-07-29T05:00:00.000+10:00

See this bird?

Oh that's right... it's not just a bird.
It's a blatant symbol of my anti-Australian-ism.
It's subversive, and non-conformist, and a sure sign that I don't accept Australian culture.

Yeah... right.
It's just a bird feeder, people!

I brought home this bird feeder when we were in the States.
I bought it simply because I liked it, and because I love Robins....
And I never, ever thought that it would cause me the grief that it caused me last night.

See, I had a parent (client) stop by last night, to pay me her portion of the last bill.
2 weeks late, mind you... and I didn't even charge her the $5 a day late fees that are clearly marked on her contract.
In light of what happened, maybe I should have.

So anyway, we're standing on the front porch talking about the scheduling for next week, when she looks over and says "Isn't that an American bird?"
And I said "Yes... I just love Robin Red Breasts, and I found this terrific little bird feeder while we were in the States in April.
Don't you just love it?"

To which she replied:
"Well, don't you think you should have an Aussie bird up there, instead of something American? Isn't that giving the children the wrong type of message?"

Huh? Am I missing something here?

It's a bird.
It's a bird feeder.
Australian birds come and eat out of it on a daily basis.
Aussie birds like sweet little wrens and finches, and even the occasional parrot or two. (and they ~~shit~~ poop all over my railing and porch while they're at it, but we won't go there)

The children like it, and they can spend hours with their little noses pressed to the windows, watching the birds come in for a feed.
Isn't that what's really important?
Besides me liking it, of course.

The funny thing is, this woman had a real problem with it... and even asked that I take it down and replace it with something "more representative" of my adopted country - or she might have to speak to the office about it.

The funny thing is, this wind chime was less than 2 feet away from the bird feeder... and she never said a word about it!

That's me folks.

Dividing and destroying Australia...

One bird feeder at a time!

Say a prayer!

2010-07-29T04:54:00.003+10:00

I have another post pre-scheduled to come up shortly, but I'm so excited here, that I can barely sit still!

See, I posted on face book last night about seriously looking for a house near where my son lives... and I think I may have already hit pay dirt!!

Looking for a place from $25,000-$90,000 in the Murphys/Douglas Flat area - NON Murphys Diggings. Can anyone help?

Now, I'm not going to say much more (I don't want to put my cart before the horse, or count my proverbial chickens before they hatch, or any of that stuff... and then go and jinx everything, ya know?) but I got a message from my son late last night, about the most perfectly located, ready-to-move-in-except-the-kitchen-needs-some-minor-work, ideal place.... and it's so much better - and more perfect - than anything I could have dreamed of!

We drove by this place almost every time we went out, and you know how you look at a place and think "oooohhh... if only that was my place"?

Well, I did it with this place... never ever dreaming that there was any hope in hell of ever living there.

Now I'm trying not to get too excited, but I can't help feeling that things may finally be falling into place for me!!

So, if you're so inclined... please say a little prayer for me.

And if you're not into praying, well... I'm more than happy with all the crossed fingers and toes I can get!

You could have heard a pin drop...

2010-07-28T05:15:00.007+10:00

I'm PROUD to be an American!

~~~~~~~~~~

At a time when our president and other politicians tend to apologize for our country's prior actions, here's a refresher on how some of our former patriots handled negative comments about our country.

~~~~~~~~~

JFK'S Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, was in France in the early-60s when De Gaulle decided to pull out of NATO.

De Gaulle said he wanted all US military out of France as soon as possible. Rusk responded, "Does that include those who are buried here?"

De Gualle did not respond.

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When in England, at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of 'empire building' by George Bush.

He answered by saying,

"Over the years, the United States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return."

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American.

During a break, one of the French engineers came back into the room saying,

"Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done?

He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What does he intend to do, bomb them?"

A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly:

"Our carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred people;

they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical power to shore facilities;

they have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day,

they can produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day,

and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck.

We have eleven such ships; how many does France have?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A U.S. Navy Admiral was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S., English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies.

At a cocktail reception, he found himself standing with a large group of officers that included personnel from most of those countries.

Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then asked,

"Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather than speaking French?"

Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied, "Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians, Aussies and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German."

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And this story fits right in with the above...

Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane.

At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on.

"You have been to France before, Monsieur?" the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

"Then you should know enough to have your passport ready."

The American said, "Well, the last time I was here, I didn't have to show it."

"Impossible!! Americans always have to show their passports on arrival in France!"

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained,

''Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen to show a passport to."

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you are proud to be an American, please pass this on!

I am proud to be of this land. . . AMERICA.

Spelling is impordant.

2010-07-26T07:28:00.001+10:00

Okay, so I do have my little pet peeves, and I also have some damn funny little quirks of my own, but one thing that I can NOT stand is poor spelling.

Yeah I know... we all do it every now and again... but for most of us, spelling mistakes are just ermmm....common mistakes.

No biggie.

Our fingers get carried away, or our brains are so busy thinking or something.

Or the cat was in the way of me seeing the keyboard, and I was overcome with the fumes from his butt.

That's my excuse anyway.

But when it comes to newspapers, advertising, pamphlets, hell... even gravestones, you would think that not only would they know better, but they would also make a more concerted effort to do it right.

Right?

Call me pedantic, but well.... it drives me right around the bend.

Don't people even proofread anymore?? Where are the editors.... and what are they doing if they're not editing?

Stuff like this drives me absolutely bonkers:

Bear Brakes into car, goes on joyride. (check out the link)

Hmmm...I wonder who this "Illegall" is... and why they're announcing that he'll be crossing the road?
Film at 11.

Ahhh... preserved for prosperity.

In memory of 'there' son.
Or there son is there.
Or something.

Where we have lots of books that can teach you how to spell....

Johnny can't read? Send him to our shcool, where we can teech him the basics of reading and riting...

3 piece chicen.
It's finger licen.

One of our local Hotel's... nothing funny here.

Yet.

If you want an Australian meal, all you have to do is enquirer.

Plus, we even have deivers to deliver it to you;

Enquirering minds want to know if you went to the shcool mentioned above.

Want one of our lovely a Rice Sishes? Hey, you've come to the right place!

Plus, we even have De luxe fried rice.

In the mood for desert?

Hey, make mine Sonoran! That's my favorite desert of all... because it's got lots of cool rock formations and sand and scorpions and stuff!

And then just this morning, I read on face book that

"Hamish takes his cloths off in hope that it'll better connect him with his friends on facebook."

I wonder which particular cloths he'll be taking off?

His wash cloths, or his cleaning cloths?

Oh crap, Hamish.... just leave your clothes on.

Please.

Sad News from the Culinary World...

2010-07-25T14:25:00.004+10:00

SAD NEWS From the Culinary World...

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community.

The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a recurrent yeast infection, and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly.

He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin.

Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies and Captain Crunch.

The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded.

Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with frequent turnovers.

He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half baked schemes.

Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a deliciously crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had a bun in the oven.

He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

Not your typical hobby

2010-07-22T08:04:00.006+10:00

HOBBY, n., pl., -bies.
An activity or interest pursued outside one's regular occupation and engaged in primarily for pleasure.

Yep, that's it.
I guess I have a new hobby.
Kind of a strange one maybe, but it's deeply satisfying just the same.

See this thing?

Mosquito's... mozzie's... skeeter's... whatever it is that you may call them, I hate them.
With a passion.

I always thought that they died off during the winter, but it's winter here now and every morning when I go outside, the walls and windows of my little enclosed porch are covered with the nasty little blood-suckers. It's cold out there, and they just sort of sit there doing nothing, until it warms up, but it bugs me that they're even there in the first place.
My senses are affronted.

So I went checking for info on mosquito's, and found out that they never really do die off during winter or during cold snaps.
If they did, there wouldn't be any new skeeters come summer time.
They just sort of hibernate.
Even if the eggs or larvae are frozen in water, as soon as it gets warm enough for the ice to melt they just start doing their thing again.

I've checked my yard for standing water constantly... and I empty out any I find... but when I poked my head over the neighbors fence, I found that it's a veritable mozzie heaven over there.
Old hubcaps, ancient laundry troughs, tin cans and buckets, a couple of old wheelbarrows, puddles in the dirt... you name it, if it holds water, they've got it.

THAT'S where they're breeding.
The skeeter's, that is.
Not the neighbors.
As far as I know anyway.
I'm just not that curious.

So what about my new hobby, I hear you asking?

Well... I first tried spraying the little buggers with hairspray... and that does work.
It works real well.
But it leaves an icky film on stuff, you know? And since I do smoke out there, I would kind of prefer not going up in puff of smoke myself, or to breathe in hairspray constantly.
And I would prefer not to look at the lacquer covered nasties stuck to my wall, which also means that I have to go out there with a bucket and scrub the walls down, because they're looking like the spots on 101 Dalmatians.

So I now just "Flick my Bic".

I light my lighter, put it under the cold-benumbed little bastards, and wait for the satisfying ssffffftt!
Instant crispy critters.
My record, during just one cup of coffee is 17 of the little blighters.

My new hobby is fun, entertaining, I can pick it up and put it down as I please, and it's also immensely satisfying.

It's also probably deeply disturbing.
But hey... I can live with that.

There ought to be a law...

2010-07-21T07:25:00.003+10:00

You know... like they used to do with smoking?

There were smoking and non-smoking sections in restaurants, motels, movie theaters...
You name it... smokers were separated from non-smokers.
And for good reason.

Now I'm on a mission.
They need to do the same thing with doctors' waiting rooms.
There should be a separate "coughing/sneezing/hacking your nasty-a** phlegm up" rooms.
For the safety and convenience of our other patients.

See, I don't get colds. I just don't.
I. Do. Not. Get. Colds.
Period.
But I've got one now.
Oh, I have been known to get the odd runny nose or sore throat, but the whole "I want my NyQuil" thing going on?
Nah...

But I woke up this morning, and I've got a bloody stinking head cold going on.
No warning, no nothing.
And I thought... "how"?

And then it dawned on me.

I've spent the better part of a week now, in overheated waiting rooms, waiting to be prodded and poked and asked to dress and undress... whilst reading magazines so old, that I just now found out that Brad left Jennifer... for some silly bimbo named Angelina.
And while I was busy having all that fun, there's been a perpetual background noise of cough-ers and sneeze-ers and hack-ers.

Who have now all made me sick.

BUT... the ~~good~~ excellent part is, is that all that testing and torture they put me through was worth it in the long run.
Well, at least we think so.
There are still a couple of things that puzzle both the GP and the Internist, but it's nothing seriously serious... so we're now just kind of going to sit back and see what happens next.
The kidneys are showing signs of failure, but that seems to be miraculously reversing itself, or clearing or whatever... so it may just be a matter of twiddling our collective thumbs for awhile.

I would say that I've got my fingers crossed, but I can't cross my fingers and twiddle my thumbs at the same time.
I know.
Because I've tried.

Oh hell... I just realized.
I can't do either one.
I'll be too busy holding tissues, wiping my nose and eyes, and trying not to sneeze on people.

Yep... there ought to be a law, alright.

For the safety and convenience of our other patrons, we ask that you please refrain from coughing, sneezing or hacking up junk, whilst on these premises.

We thank you for your consideration.

Oh... and I want my NyQuil please.

Down time... in more ways then one.

2010-07-14T06:42:00.006+10:00

Since the school holidays are now well and truly behind me, I was sort of looking forward to a slow and gentle slide into the next weekend... because next weekend is my weekend 'off'.
And I was/am seriously ready for a much needed break, let me tell you!

Ahhh... Heavenly!
Time to sleep in... to read books... and just sort of potter around the house and garden.
Maybe even find the time - or the inclination - to walk around the lake a time or two.

Only things happened.

I'm now off all this week, and maybe even into the next... or beyond.
Yeah, I now have my "time off", alright... but it's because of circumstances that I wish I weren't going through.

See, the final couple of days of school holidays, I didn't feel too well.
Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't really feel bad, and I did have some intermittent pain in my lower left abdomen.
Now to be honest it was nothing really bad... but more irritating than anything, I suppose.

But certainly not worrisome.
I just figured maybe I needed a little more fiber in my diet - which is just a nice way of saying constipation.
Because I hate saying "constipation".
Especially in relation to me.

But then add to that, noticing blood in my urine, and I just figured that with Monday off (well, a half day anyway) I might just pop into the doctors and see what was going on.

So I walked in there all fat, dumb and happy... and walked out decidedly less so.
Oh, I'm still fat and dumb, I can assure you.
That hasn't changed.

But happy?
Not so much.

See, when the doctor palpated my abdomen, he found some exceedingly tender spots.
Tender enough, that he had to duck when I just about knee'd him in the head a time or two.
And whilst ducking, he also found a small mass that concerned him.

And me too, of course, since I feel basically fine and dandy and I certainly don't feel like I should have a small mass, especially when I'm feeling pretty darn good for the middle-aged shape I'm in..
Well, maybe I'm a little more tired than usual... but I just put that down to the school holidays and the long hours I had just put in... so it just seemed sort of understandable.

So, being somewhat concerned after poking and prodding me, he made me pee in a bottle.
Not once... but twice.

And come to find out, he saw stuff he didn't like looking at.

Now, at this point, he doesn't really know what we're dealing with... but he must have his suspicions, based on the foot-long list of tests he wanted run.
Immediately.
But did he share those suspicions with me?
Nope.
He will though, once the results of the blood tests, urine tests and ultrasound all come in - sometime next week.

But he did pat my hand, before I left.
Which kind of worries me more than the "other stuff"... know what I mean?

So, I have all this week off, and possibly the next as well.. but this really isn't what I had in mind. Oh no...
This is definitely not what I had in mind at all.

The snake...

2010-07-12T07:39:00.007+10:00

Years and years ago, when I was first living here in Australia, I got bitten by a snake.
Now, being a California girl and pretty darned used to snakes of most descriptions, I thought it was "no big deal"... especially since I hadn't heard any rattling beforehand.

So being the calm, cool and pretty much unflappable woman that I am, I simply hollered out to the guy who was running his sheep dogs next door.

"Hey Jack... I think I was just bitten by a snake. What do I do?"

HOLY MITHER OF JAYSUS! STAY RIGHT THERE AN' I'LL COME AND GET YA!. DON'T MOVE! WHERE'S THE SNAKE AT. DO YA KNOW?
OH GOD...OH GOD!

No Jack... I can't see him now, but I think he may have gone under the laundry tub. I'm not sure though. He wasn't very big ... does that matter?

OKAY, STAY STILL AN' DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE! THEY'LL ALL KILL YA - AND DEADER THAN A CARP, BESIDES!

Now because Jack was screaming, going all red in the face and running towards me as fast as his little bandy legs could carry him, I started to get a little bit worried.

Worried as in "Oh shit...I'm gonna die here. Oh shit!"

So, Jack leaped the fence in a single bound, (well not really, since he was barely taller than the fence itself, and he had gotten tangled up in the chicken wire and ended up landing face down in my chrysanthemums) and he ran to my side.
Now I had talked to Jack many, many times over the fence - but always at a distance - and in all that time, I had never realized that he barely came up to my armpits.
Or my boobs.

So Jack, after dusting himself off, rushed to my side and he proceeded to put his arms around me.... attempting to carry me to the back porch - with one leg stuck up in the air. (luckily, the affected leg)
Except that while he was busy grasping me in his arms and trying to point my right foot to the sky at the same time, his face was pressed into the side of my boob.

LIFT YOUR OTHER LEG KATIE, AND I'LL CARRY YA TO THE PORCH!
AN' CAN YOU MOVE YOUR BREAST, PLEASE? I'M HAVING TROUBLE SEEING WHERE I'M GOING HERE, FOR YUR BREAST BEING PRESSED UP TO MY FACE!

Ummm...Jack? I don't think this isn't going to work. How about if you just sort of balance me, and I just hop on over there? Or maybe you could just sort of drag me?

NO! YOU CAN'T MOVE A MUSCLE OR THE *PISON* WILL MAKE YOU DROP DEAD! HOLY MITHER OF JAYSUS! WE NEED BANDAGES!! DON'T BREATHE! THAT MAKES YUR BLOOD PUMP AROUND YUR BODY AND YOU'LL BE PISONED TO DEATH! STAND STILL AND LET ME TAKE CARE OF YA'S!

Well... Jack managed to get me to the porch, and he unceremoniously plunked me down on the wood box.

OKAY, WE NEED SHEETS NOW! WHERE ARE YUR SHEETS? DO YOU HAVE SHEETS, WOMAN?

They're in the cupboard just off the kitchen ... top shelf I think. Just grab whatever's on top.

OH NO! I CAN'T GO IN THERE! WITH YOU BEING A SINGLE LADY AND ALL, I DON'T THINK IT'S FITTIN' FOR ME - A SINGLE MAN - TO GO INTO YOUR HOUSE! THINK OF OUR REP-ATATIONS! WHAT WOULD THE NEIGHBORS THINK??

Oh for God's sake Jack... I'm sitting outside on the wood box in broad daylight and probably dying of snakebite... so if you go into my house, I'm pretty sure the neighbors won't talk too much about us having an affair.
They probably won't even worry about it unless I'm dead and you've made me get dead, so you're just being a silly!

Well, he eventually went in and got the sheets (my favorite ones too... but when you're dying, it's kind of nice to think of dying while wrapped up in your favorite robin-egg blue colored eyelet-trimmed sheets.) and he proceeded to rip it into strips, and applied a tourniquet.

He then ran back in the house, (looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him enter a single ladies house, with lascivious thoughts in mind... and potentially ruining both our reputations) and he brought the phone out to me.

Now being fairly new to the country and all, I knew that you didn't call 911, but I couldn't remember what number to call.
411? 444? 999?

Oh hell, I couldn't think, and Jack was still dancing around, going redder by the minute, and telling me to stop breathing... so I just called my friend Jenny and told her I had been bitten by a snake and that I needed help.

I figured that she would just call an ambulance or the coroner or whatever you do in circumstances like this, but instead she came in her own car, and between her and Jack they tossed me head first in the front seat.
Which probably didn't do that damn tourniquet any good, and it probably dislodged the venom that was supposed to be somewhat damned up beneath the eyelet-trimmed sheet strips.

Now... Jenny drives like a bat out of hell at the best of times, and I've white-knuckled it with her many many times before, but this time, she put those race car guys on the Bonneville salt flats to shame.

All I could think about was us crashing on a curve going way over the speed limit,, and then everyone would be so busy pulling our mangled selves out of the car, that no one would even think to ask me if I was snake-bit ... probably just assuming that my right leg wrapped in strips of robins-egg blue eyelet-trimmed sheets was just a stupid Americans fashion statement.
And then I would die.

But somehow (probably due to the fact that I started reciting the Rosary, even though I'm not Catholic) we made it to the hospital, where Jenny laid on the horn and started screaming :
SNAKE BITE! WE HAVE A SNAKE BITE!

Let me tell you, those emergency room people can sure move fast when they want to, and I was in a wheelchair in about 2 seconds flat, and being run hell-for-leather through the corridors.

Unfortunately, because they had my snake-bit leg up, I got run foot-first into a wall a time or two, almost breaking the foot or leg in the process, but they eventually got me on a gurney.
I just took it uncomplainingly.... figuring that broken legs are probably preferable to dying of snake venom... so I just stoically hung in there, while clutching my imaginary Rosary beads and keeping my mouth shut.

And then the doctor came in... and this is where it gets strange.

This doctor was decidedly Indian looking, and she had the sing-song Indian accent to go with it.
All I could concentrate on was her accent, and it kept running through my head that I was listening to Apu from the Simpson's.
Now whether that was from that potential snake venom coursing through my veins, or the possible brain damage from having my foot and leg jammed repeatedly into walls, affecting my spinal cord synapse's and making my brain go all wonky, I couldn't tell you.

But this short, rotund, dark-skinned Indian woman started wringing her hands, and proceeded to tell me:
"Oh dear. I do not know anything about these bites from these snakes. We do not have snakes in my country, you see. I do not know what to do for you. You must tell me now, what you are feeling inside of you."

And I'm thinkin' :
"Well, okay honey, but you sure don't look Irish to me, and as far as I know, the only country in the world that doesn't have snakes is Ireland. And we are NOT in Ireland at this exact moment. At least I don't think so, anyway.
But maybe I'm just nuts from the snake venom coursing through my veins, and I'm actually on the Emerald Isle. But then why am I dying of snake bite, if that's true?"

Now, you would think that I would be thinking stuff like "Oh %&$#! I'm gonna die! Oh *%#@!" wouldn't you?
Or I would even be thinking:
"Well hell... if you don't know what to do for me, the least you could do is call the coroner."

But no.... I just sat there looking at her quizzically, thinking ... "but you're not IRISH, woman!
And the name Vivekanadam doesn't sound even remotely like Mary Mac Gregor or Molly McGee! Because you sure as hell sound nothing like sweet old Jack Green who has just done his level best to keep me alive, even if it was by ripping up my favorite eyelet-trimmed sheets... which are now forever ruined!
Now JACK is definitely an Irishman - and you woman, are NOT!

Thank God for some of the best nurses I've ever met in my life - that's all I can say.
Because that Indian/Irish doctor was about as worthless as tits on a bull, and twice as stubborn.
But maybe that's just my opinion.

But those highly professional and caring nurses knew exactly what to do, and they did it so well!

They swabbed my puncture wounds, to test for what type of venom it was, brought a book over to see if I could identify what type of snake might have fanged me, checked and re-checked my vitals and did everything they could to make me comfortable... as well as doing everything they did, coolly, thoroughly and professionally.

And as highly trained professionals, they didn't even comment on the fact that with the hair on my unshaven legs, finding a couple of small-ish puncture wounds, was like trying to find a needle in a furry haystack.
To my face anyway.

Eventually, we found out that it was a Tiger snake, but luckily, I hadn't been "envenomed". I just had the puncture marks.
See... it seems that Tiger snakes only rarely "envenom" people (or more likely, prey) and they only do it when they're seriously looking to eat you.

Not when they're just pissed off from being stepped on.

Which is what probably saved me from being treated me with Tiger snake antivenin.
Antivenin that the hospital probably has 44 gallon drums of, because they're just waiting for people like me to come in and be antivenined.
Or rather other people to come in .... people who may have, or probably have been "envenomed" because they looked like dinner.
Not me, who just pissed off the wrong snake by stepping on him.

And because Australia supposedly has more venomous snakes than anywhere else in the world, it seems to me that 44 gallon drums of assorted anti-venom's is probably a a darn good thing to have on hand if you're running a hospital.

Even if you don't always need to use it, it's comforting to know it's there ...even if foreign doctors have no idea of how to administer it..
But it still makes me wonder... If Australia has such a huge variety of killer snakes ... WHY does our hospital employ a doctor who claims to "come from a country where we do not have snakes" and who doesn't know how to treat snake bites?
Go figure.

Now... what made me tell you this story today of all days?

I was looking through a folder of photos, searching for some birthday party pics, when I ran across this:

Now I don't know if it's the exact same snake or not, but Jack took a picture of one he found at the fenceline the same day that I got bit, and he eventually moved it to the other side of the creek.

I think they're a protected species or something, and you're not allowed to kill - or harm -them... Which is probably why hospitals have 44 gallon drums of antivenin.

Still draggin' my tail behind me...

2010-07-11T09:00:00.003+10:00

Well, school holidays are finally finished, and it couldn't have come soon enough to suit me.
I mean I love my kids - each. and. every. one. of 'em.
I swear I do.
But this year, I just seemed to have a "mix" of kids that just didn't... errmm... 'mix' too well together - even though they've gotten along well in the past.

There was a wide variation in ages, likes, dislikes, and sociability... and by day 5, it was pretty clear that this was gonna be a long haul.
I, however ~~saint~~ sucker that I am, persevered.

Mainly, so that I could use a grown-up word like "persevered".

So I managed to survive 10 straight days of mayhem and madness... only to be faced with the weekend.
Which is my working weekend.

Dammit.

See, I've had one young lad since last Thursday, and who knows when he'll finally depart, since he's in 'indefinite' emergency care...

And then in addition, I have a child that I care for every second week while his regular carer is off for the weekend...

And then I also have my regular 'Saturday morning to Sunday morning' overnight-er.
Who has now departed... praise the Lord!

I mean.... they're all GOOD kids, and I love them dearly... but all 3 of 'em are "special needs kids", and 2 of them talk at the top of their voices constantly - even if no one's listening.
I mean, both of them can sit in the toilet and still yell loud enough to drown out the sound of a jet engine - just to hear the noise, I think!
So... by the time they all leave, my ears are ringing like the bells of St Mary's or something.

The other carers boy doesn't talk at all, but his high-pitched vocalizations - especially at 2am, are enough to send me a little bit further 'round the bend.
If that's possible, that is.

Sometimes I feel like I'm already so far around that damn bend, that I can see my own backside with it's draggin' tail, right there in front of me!

So, now I'm down to a kid who sounds like he's constantly yelling into a bullhorn... and one who is EEEEEEee!-ing me to death!

The best I can do at this point, (hell, it's the only thing I can do) is continue to pray that the school bus is on time in the morning.

Because man... my ears need the break!

Please send earplugs.
And a bottle of Scotch.

Happy Birthday, America!

2010-07-05T12:35:00.005+10:00

We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

~~~

And did you know this?

That in addition to the USA turning 234 years old today, the 50-star American flag is officially 50 YEARS OLD today, as well!

Law directs that a newly-designed U. S. flag becomes official on the first July 4th observance following the admission of a new state.

Hawaii was admitted as the 50th state on Aug. 21, 1959.

~~~

I hope you all have a safe, and Happy 4th of July!

So, relax and enjoy the day.

Kick back and grill some burgers or hotdogs.

Watch a ballgame.

Shoot off the fireworks and wave Old Glory.

But, for heaven's sake, don't forget what this holiday is all about.

It's about

One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.

I like to use big words sometimes.

2010-06-29T06:09:00.005+10:00

I know I haven't been around much this last week, but this is what I've been dealing with.

Well, this photo isn't exactly what my kids look like, but it's a pretty damned good pictorial representation of what I've had to put up with.

That's where the "Big Words" part of the title comes in.

Pictorial representation... *sigh*

Words like that help keep me grounded.

Because they help me remember that there are words that big people use... words that don't always necessarily involve bodily functions.

And it sure as hell beats using words like wee's and poo's, and sit, and NO!, and Charlie, you stop that, right this minute!

And Emma, if you keep eating your boogers, I'm going to make you a booger sandwich.. do you hear me?

And OMG James! Get OUT of there!
We do NOT swim in the toilet!!

I shall return to my regularly scheduled blogging... and reading of blogs just as soon as I can.

When the school holidays are finished.

If I survive, that is.

Feelin' decidedly Crabby...

2010-06-22T05:02:00.010+10:00

Now isn't this the most beautiful thing you ever did see?

(that's Lee-Loubelle holding that baby, and I can just imagine what her finger-less gloves smelled like afterwards!)

Costco (God bless 'em!) had Dungeness crabs in on Sunday, and I just couldn't resist.
I mean, I haven't had Dungeness crab in... oh... I don't know how many years... Probably more than 10, but I'm one of those people who have to take off their socks to count past 10... and it's just too darn cold here to do that this morning!

But as soon as I saw these babies, my mouth started watering.
A lot.

So last nights dinner consisted of that beeeautiful crab, along with this:

Which turned into this:

I also garlic buttered and warmed some delicious rosemary and romano cheese french bread baguettes... and the meal was complete.

And I was completed.

100% Costco... all the way, baby!

My luverly weekend...

2010-06-20T05:56:00.012+10:00

I have to tell you, I've never been so happy to see the backsides of my kids, as I was Friday evening.

Not that I'm ever particularly thrilled to see their backsides in the first place... but you know what I mean.

But it had been a long fortnight, with a lot of overnight care and hard-to-handle kids.

Not bad kids... Just ones with issues.

Anyway, once they were all gone, I managed to fit in a shower and a change of clothes before heading off to the Aspergers seminar Friday night... And I have to tell ya, the evening was a rousing success! (which means that I managed to more than stay awake through it.)

In fact, I think I can honestly say that it was one of the absolute best work-related seminars I've ever attended - bar none!

The speaker was great... he shared lots of personal - and funny- anecdotes and he kept us all riveted for 3 and a half hours.

Now I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but after decades of working with children on the Autism/Aspergers spectrum, I know a lot.

And I'm good at what I do.

I've learned a lot of my lessons the hard way, and by being completely hands-on... so I have pretty good insight into what makes most of my young charges tick, and I've learned - and implemented- the techniques needed to deal with them.

Most seminars I attend, along with the speakers who speak at us, are less than inspiring... and I can sit through hours of droning, repetitious, boring ear-bashing talk, thinking "well duh".

While I'm awake, that is.

They fulfill my annual course requirements... but that's about all.

But honest to God, this was the first speaker I have ever encountered who actually knew, from a hands-on perspective - what he was talking about. It wasn't just 'book-learnin' and repeating what he's read" with him... it was more a "down and dirty from working in the actual trenches" kind of thing.

Because not only is he a psychologist who deals with these kids on a daily basis, his son is on the spectrum as well... so his love and understanding of the subject came shining through.

And I got to bask in the glow.

By the time we got home, (I had taken 2 friends with me) my brain was firing on all cylinders, and I was walking on air.

I was feeling inspired and rejuvenated.

Which is a complete bitch when it's almost midnight, and all I just really wanted to do was go to bed.

And sleep.

Thank the Lord for Sleepy Time Tea, is all I can say.

It worked a treat.

I even managed to sleep until 7am yesterday morning... which if you know me at all, is like 3 hours longer than normal - no matter what time I go to bed.

And yesterday?

Yesterday involved a whole lot of this...

Then some of this

Along with some of this as well

And then this... Martin Clunes "Islands of Britain". Which has some amazing scenery... as well as a good healthy dose of eye candy.

He makes me want to move to Eigg.

And then immediately afterwards, "Doc Martin"... starring Martin Clunes again.

He still makes me want to move somewhere. Wherever he is
Even though he looks constipated.

And then right back to this:

I ask you...Does it get any better than that?

Today we're off to Costco with Miz K... and then I'm right back to a whole lot of nothing-ness.
Life's good.

Not enough hours in the day

2010-06-18T05:21:00.007+10:00

It's been busy, busy, busy around here lately... and I'm starting to feel like that I don't have a single solitary minute to myself anymore.

Mainly... I guess that's because I don't.

Fancy me figuring that out, eh?

I've just spent the last week and a half up to my eyeballs in kids - including two 5 1/2 month old babies at the same time - as well as the pre-schoolers... and I'm one worn-out old woman.

With the emphasis on worn out.

Okay... well old too.

Oh hell... go ahead and emphasise them both.

What do I care?

I don't have the energy to argue with you anyway.

The kids have really kept me hoppin'... and then to top it off, so far this week I've had 2 after-hours classes to attend, in the last 4 days.

One on Autism (no offence to the gals who planned this course, but I knew more than the facilitator did, so it was rather boring)... and then another one on Programming and Planning.

That one was pretty interesting, but embarrassingly, it seems that I was more fascinated in looking at the inside of my eyelids... and I missed a lot.

Thankfully... I didn't snore.

At least that I know of.

I figure the pitying looks I got as we were filing out, had more to do with the wafting odor of baby sick... than my snoring during class.

But I could be wrong there.

Tonight's excuse for draggin me kicking and screaming from the house, is a 3+ hour class on Aspergers... (I'm also taking 2 non-daycare friends with me, so they can prod me if I snore) and I've got my fingers crossed that the facilitators at least make it interesting.

Oh ... and that they at least serve some kind of nibbles.

Preferably with cocktails...

But I'm probably dreamin' there.

Food, and kicking your shoes off for an hour or two is important as hell, when you've worked from 12 to 24 hours straight for the 11th day in a row... and then have to dash out the door with baby spit-up on your shirt and something that smells vaguely and disgustingly like baby poop on the left leg of your pants... simply because you don't have time to change.

Or even eat dinner.

Which sadly follows not really having eaten breakfast or lunch either.

Because there aren't enough hours in the day.

Although I have discovered that my cat Willow will eat my uneaten, soggy Shredded Wheat if given half the chance.

And do you have any idea what soggy Shredded Wheat does to a cat's intestinal system?

It's not pleasant... that's all I'm saying.

But it sure is loud.

But now, without further ado... On to the good news!

The good news is that this is MY FRIDAY, BABY!

And " My Friday" means that I have the next 3 lovely, lovely days off!

And what do I have planned?

Nuthin'.

Absolutely nuthin' at all... other than catching up on blogs!

Lookin' for a man...

2010-06-13T06:15:00.010+10:00

That's right.
I'm in the market for a new man.

Aged between 45 and 75, fit, and able to do small necessary chores around the house.

Must be a self-starter.

Must be able to cook the occasional hot meal, without reminding me of it for the next 50 years, and must be able to at least clear his own dishes off the table without being asked.

Clearing mine off the table when I get sidetracked bathing a child with spaghetti from one end to the other, and who's also painting the walls with spaghetti sauce, is highly desirable.

Stacking dishes is acceptable... but a bonus will be given for actually washing the dishes.
(actual bonus negotiable)

Must not want to sit on his a** watching TV, (no matter how cute that a** may be) while I do end-of-the-day things like feed the cats, hang out the last 3 loads of laundry, wash the 20th sink-full of dishes for the day, and then take out the trash... after my having worked a very stressful 16 hour day or 24 hours a day for 6 days straight, and when I'm absolutely dead on my feet.

To the point where I actually fall over in the street, scraping my hands and knee and tearing a hole in my pants, while taking the 2 garbage bins to the curb.

Telling me what I missed on TV, while I'm feeding cats/doing laundry/ cooking/ or taking out the garbage bins and tripping on the curb and ripping my hand open, is absolutely forbidden and will result in instant termination and alienation of affection.

Giving me a blow-by-blow word-for-word rundown of the morning news, afternoon cooking shows or what Oprah said today, will also result in the applicant being terminated.

Pitching in to lend a hand without me having to ask 47 times, is an important attribute, and is highly desirable.

Not chasing off potential painters, by telling them that I can't really afford a painter, and that he will do it for me, is extremely important.
Actually doing the painting sometime within 3 years of chasing off the potential painter is also extremely important, because since the window sills are already sanded, (by myself, mind you) rot will set in some time in those 3 years, necessitating even more work and money to repair them.
BIG money.
Like $200 per window... times 7 windows BIG money.
Money I don't have.

Must be highly motivated to do what he says he will do, when he says he will do it.

Promising to help me out with some $$'s when I haven't yet been paid since taking holidays in April, and the bills are continually rolling in, is highly desirable.
However, the successful applicant must be willing and able to follow through on those promises.
Actions speak louder than words, so to speak.

Promising me for 4 long, stressful weeks to put money in my bank account because I'm getting 2nd notices on several bills... and then sitting back and eventually watching me put $912.78 worth of bills on my Master Card, because there is no money in said bank account, and the "many-times-promised" money was never actually forthcoming, will be severely frowned upon... and can and will result in instant dismissal - not to mention instant and irreconcilable waning of my affection.
As is forcing me to use a run-on sentences.
My affection just waned even more considerably there.

Wanting to charge me $50 for cutting my grass, when the professionals only charge me $35. is unacceptable.
Telling me that the professionals can't make a living charging those prices, is just ridiculous... and will not be tolerated.

Telling me "now that now that I'm retired, I actually work harder than when I worked for for the post office for 41 years years - and I never have a single, solitary minute to myself nowadays"... after having watched Oprah, Ready Steady Cook and Judge Judy all afternoon and then gone shopping for a cast iron skillet and another freakin' hat, will result in immediate dismissal, and no references will be given.

Preference will be given to a man who has an "open wallet" approach.
The sucessful applicant should understand that I will never unnecessarily take advantage of that attitude, and that I will repay every single penny as soon as humanly possible.
Even if it means going without food.
In ten years, I would expect that a man would know that about me.

Preference will be given to a man who owns his own home, who has worked for most of his life, has future goals and a can-do attitude, and who promises to deliver - and then actually delivers what he says he will.

Having a humorous, light-hearted attitude also helps.

Hmmm...I wonder if this guy is available?
(click to enlarge)

I'm one weird mother...

2010-06-05T06:42:00.005+10:00

Okay... I need to know. It's important that I know.
Do any of y'all ever carry on entire conversations in your head?

Like, you say something... and then they say something back... and you say something back to them.. and then they question your statement, and you have to explain why you feel that way, or explain why you said it?

Or is it just me?

See... Sometimes, I come across something on the 'net, or in a book... and it immediately makes me think of someone in particular.
Like my hairdresser, or a friend or co-worker, or in this particular case... my son.
Well... it doesn't happen all the time... just sometimes.
I just want you to know that.
Because that would just be extremely strange and worrisome.... and someone might end up calling for the men from the funny farm to come take me away.

Now what started me questioning my sanity (well, to be honest this isn't the first time, but we won't go there right now, okay?) was a post of Hermit Jim's (from Coffee with the Hermit) that I read a little earlier this morning.
It was about water-wise tips and such, and at the end, he included a link to The Farmer's Almanac.

Now, me and The Farmer's Almanac go back a long way... and I always bought a copy every single year.
I would spend hours and weeks and months reading and using it, until that poor old almanac was dog-eared... until the pages were smooth as silk and it was worn out, but well loved... sort of like the Velveteen Rabbit.
And when the next years issue came around, the old one was always placed on the bookshelf, to refer back to.

So when Hermit Jim posted the link, I clicked on that link... faster than a duck jumpin' on a June Bug.

And there it was before me, in all it's yellow glory... Just chock-full of information and tips, and just good ol' old time knowledge. Although it's looking a little more 'fresh' than I remember, it kind of reminded me of a dearly beloved, softly wrinkled old friend... who's suddenly and unexpectedly had a face lift.
Cool, but odd.

So anyway... I had a bit of a browse around, and then checked out the weather in Murphys California.
Like you do.
When your feet are stuck in one country, but your heart is in another one.

And once I saw the extended weather forecast for Murphys, the "in my head conversation" started.

"Gee, Mom... how on earth did you know what our weather was going to be like today? And, you know what it's going to be like on Thursday too? Golly, Mom... you must be soooo smart! I want to be just like you when I grow up!"
(Okay, I have to admit it. My " in my head conversations" with my son often take on a real "Leave It To Beaver" quality, with him looking all rumpled and eager... and using words like "gee" and "golly"...
While I'm in a shirtwaist and an apron, with plastic pearls around my neck, waiting for Ward to come home.
Oh... You TOO?)

"Oh son... tsk tsk!! Honey, I'm your Mom, and Mom's just know stuff like this.
Mom's know everything!"

"Gee Mom, thanks! Now I know what to wear when I go out in the yard to work today... and I'll be sure to take my drink bottle with me, since it's going to be so hot!
And on Thursday, I'll be sure to take my corduroy - with the patches on the elbows - jacket with me, since there's a chance of clouds and cooler weather coming!
Golly GEE! You're such a super Mom!"

"That's okay, son. But that's just what Mom's do!
And speaking of Mom's knowing things... have you used the toilet today? You know what can happen if you don't do a BM everyday, son! You'll get sick, and feel really, really terrible!
Tell you what... next time you "go", don't flush, and come tell me, and I can come check it out... okay? Now... where did I put that Milk of Magnesia?
Josh? Josh, come back here this instant! Take your water bottle with you! Josh! Do you want me to have to tell your father that you left without your water bottle, and that you threw your baseball glove at me? Do you?"

And that's usually when I catch myself, and wonder why in the hell I do stuff like this ...
So I guess I gotta admit it.

I'm one weird Mother.

Memorial Day...

2010-05-31T06:00:00.006+10:00

I don't know why it came about, but I have two American casket flags in my possession.

I don't know the names of the men or women who died to earn these flags, or where they served... but I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
They died for me.
They died for you.
They died for a country and a cause that they believed in... and no tribute that I can offer, can ever do them the justice they deserve.

I've tried to track down who the recipients of these flags were, but with no luck.
I was told that unless there is actually a letter with them, there's probably no way to ever track them down.
But as a way of honoring the men who died, it was suggested that I fly these flags with pride today, as a way of honoring them... and showing them and the world that these men didn't die in vain.

And today, I'll be doing just that.

I looked and dozens of Memorial Day tribute videos this morning, and the comment on one in particular, touched me deeply.

"I'm not American, I'm English, but I know several serving Marines and a very good friend of mine has her fiancee currently serving, and I know you don't get much gratitude from us over here, but please let me thank you on behalf of my country. I'll honour every one of you brave souls who are fighting for our freedom, each and every serviceman and woman is a hero.
Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Thank you all... And may God Bless you

Tatersmama's take on things

Christmas 2011 -- Birth of a New Tradition!!

Tamale Pie... nom nom!

Nothing much to say...

Anyone got Q-Tips?

Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been?

We'll never get over it... Nor should we.

What's up with blogger, dagnabbit??

Beef Bulgogi... nom nom nom!

California, here I come!

Yard reno's.... a little closer to home...

Long distance renovations...

A day to myself... *sighing contentedly*

A wee bit anti-climatic - but I GOT IT!

My idea of peace...

What I'm competing with...

I'm shameless...

I live with mere mediocrity

Date night at a dive...

Just some updates....

Oh happy days...I won't be missing out!!

Don't take that away from me...

Simple pleasures are best...

Can you add to this?

Just indulge me... I'm feeling homesick

My Mama didn't raise no fools!

Just so tired...

facebook

I'm such an addlepated doofus...

It's not working yet...

The "eats" are coming out of my ears!

That's another one down...

Merry Christmas, everyone!!

I'm still blue in the face...

Rest In Peace, sweet Matthew

I can't even get a snail drunk...

Holding my breath...

You can lead a horse to water...

We Remember ...

Makin' hay while the sun shines...

Ahhh...the joys of boys...

Settling in...

And the "Feelin' Groovy" continues... mostly

Feelin' Groovy...

Planned parenthood

I think I'm in love...

Cup of Joe for a Joe

Busy Baby Bakers... Crustless Quiche

Rats are eating my brains...

We will never forget...

Wicked weather this way comes...

When one door closes...

Livin' the life of Riley...

Does your husband lack performance?

Taking time to breathe...

I don't get no respect.

To thine ownself be true...

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Ch-ch-changes...

It's just a BIRD, for crying out loud!

Say a prayer!

You could have heard a pin drop...

Spelling is impordant.

Sad News from the Culinary World...

Not your typical hobby

There ought to be a law...

Down time... in more ways then one.

The snake...

Still draggin' my tail behind me...

Happy Birthday, America!

I like to use big words sometimes.

Feelin' decidedly Crabby...

My luverly weekend...

Not enough hours in the day

Lookin' for a man...

I'm one weird mother...

Memorial Day...

A day to myself... sighing contentedly