Meow meow meow...

Hello everyone. It's Jazzy here...

I actually prefer using my proper name - Jasmine - but for some ridiculous human-type reason, my mom uses "Jazzy", which sounds dumb as mice to me, but what can ya do? She feeds me, so I let her get away with a lot of things. It just makes it easier, if you know what I mean.

Now I wuz gonna tell ya something, but I'm still a bit groggy and woozy this morning, so bear with me okay?

Mom is still sleeping, which I think is pretty silly, since it was me who underwent the tortures of hell yesterday, not her.
Humans are such dogs when it comes to stuff, aren't they?
Yap, yap, yap all day long... Sheesh!

But then again, she was up and down all night, checking on me, patting me and kissing me and she even picked my ... ahem... up off the blanket when I missed the cat box and put it in the flushable drinking bowl.
She even gave me my favorite fresh tuna before she went to bed, but she sure as heck didn't give me enough.

You know how fish is brain food, right?
Well, I needed more than she gave me last night, because I think they scrambled my brains when I went in that awful, dog-pee smelling place.
Here I was... stumbling around like a demented dog... weaving around the room like I had been into the booze, falling over like one of those turtles you see on the magic box... and I just laid there like an idiot waving my legs around in the air, while they laughed at me.
They laughed!
How rude is that?

Oh yeah... Now I remember what I was going to tell you!

Do you know what they DID to me?
What my so-called mom who claims she loves me, let them do to me?
In fact, I vaguely heard that she even paid them money to do what they did, and I doubt if I will ever, ever, ever forgive her.

All that talk of "oh, this will make you feel so much better... this will extend your life... this will make you feel so much more comfortable"...
Holy Cheeses and Mice!
They PAID someone to cut my gorgeous little pink ears off!
Can you believe that???

I feel like crap, and I can't stand upright... they shaved the fur off my head so that I look like one of those stoopid French poodles.... and my ears hurt... so where's the benefit in what she put me through?
I think I'm gonna have to put on my oh-so-perfected disdainful look and do a lot of tail flicking and growling in the weeks to come, just to let her know how hissed off I am about the whole situation.

And this whole "mom and dad" thing? What a load of codswallop! (mmm... I love me some cod, don't you? With or without the wallop. Whatever that is.)
I want you to know that these people are NOT my parents.
I tolerate them, because I like the food they give me and the soft minky blankie they give me to sleep on, and it seems to make them happy to think that I'm their baby... but I think it's pitiful.

See, the truth must be told... my real parents are royalty.
Yes, you heard me right.
I'm Royal.
Well, at least on my dear mother's side of the family.

I remember my dear mother so well... (oh, I still miss that 2nd teat on the right hand side... curling up with my brothers and sisters and having my bottom washed by a rough tongue) but my dad took off before I was born, so I think he's off having his ears cut off or something.
I think my real mother couldn't afford to support us when dad took off, so here I am... living with humans.

It's so unfair, but it does have it's advantages.
I may be hissed off at the moment, but I do know when I'm onto a good thing, do you know what I mean?
All the fresh fish and meat I can eat... and the occasional bit of my favorite Gruyere cheese... and I'm not one to turn my delicate little pink nose up at that... I'm telling ya!

It seems that these people who call themselves my "mom and dad" have some sort of paper or something that says I come from a long line of Royalty, (it says I'm a pedigreed American Long-Hair) but I've seen my so-called dad reading the paper and there doesn't seem to be anything about me in there anywhere.
Just a lot of drivel, and I can't see the importance in that at all!
Now, if he were reading about me and my lineage, I could see the point of reading the paper, but if doesn't have me in it, it's just something to line my cat box with, as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, I hear mom stirring in there, so I better go lay back on the couch and put on my disdainful, "hissed off" look again.

Don't tell her I was on here, okay?
Because if she finds that I was on her typing box, it won't be long before she learns that I've been on-line ordering catnip and a new minky blanket, when she was busy sleeping.

HA! She'll think it's her brains that have been scrambled, when the parcel-post man shows up with boxes of stuff for little ol' me!
And I'll bet you anything, when those boxes arrive, she'll go straight to the kitchen and check the level of her bottle of takillya, and scratch her head.
With the wrong foot!

HolyCodfish... she's dumb!

Stressin' BIG time over my kitty...

Well, my Jazzy headed off to the cat hospital this morning, to get her poor little ears "trimmed", and I have to admit that I'm pacing the floor here, waiting to hear how she's going.
I don't want to be a nervous mama and harass the poor vet people, but Jazzy's my baby... you know what I mean? I want to call so bad, that I can taste it... and it's driving me crazy.

I've bitten my nails to the quick, I've cleaned and disinfected things around that I just did yesterday, I've gone through the house just looking for something - anything- to occupy my mind and keep me from thinking, I've yanked weeds, scrubbed the floor and washed all the lace curtains in the house...
But I'm still stressing!

They said that I could call at about 3 o'clock and see how she's doing... and that she should be able to come home shortly after that, so I'm counting the minutes, believe me!
I want her home, where she belongs !!

It's not that I want her to be beautiful again... because to tell you the truth, I love her to pieces, regardless of how she looks.
But I just want her to be comfortable and content again.
When she cries with the pain of her sore ears, it makes my heart just break for her...
Because she's my baby...

Her sore ear is a little confronting to look at, so if you're at all squeamish, don't look.
I'll take some photos of her after she gets home and settled in, but I suspect the new photos won't be too pretty to look at either - at least for the first couple of days.

My sweet Jasmine...

Catching up...

Well, I managed to get one thing on my never-ending list out of the way last night.

I did the first half of a 2-night first aid course last night, and it was better than I expected.
Way better.
I was really dreading it, with the migraine and all, but I was lucky enough that the headache had eased off somewhat, so it wasn't bad at all. It was still bad enough that I had to wear my sunnies indoors because of the florescent lighting, but I figured that it just made me look cool and mysterious to a bunch of total strangers.
Which is my aim in life...
Which also says a lot about my lack of goals, doesn't it?

And having a good teacher and a bunch of normal people for classmates, helped immensely. Not that the other day carers that I usually take the classes with aren't "normal", but this just seemed to be more focused, and there was less chit-chat and visiting going on, you know what I mean?
It was focused enough, that the class that was scheduled for 4+ hours, was over and done with in a little over 3 hours, and I was tucked up in bed before the class was even due to be finished.
How good is that?

The only problem was, I drank a huge bottle of Coke last night before leaving home, to help with the headache and to help with concentration, (and it helps. It really does.) but the side effect of all that late evening Coke, was a bathroom marathon going on, once I got to bed last night.
I swear, I did miles of back and forth and back and forth all night long, and I spent more time running to the tootie, than I did actually sleeping.
Which in my humble opinion, is the main reason for going to bed in the first place.

Damn this menopause crap...
Once you get past the years of babies and the kids keeping you up and running at night, the girlie works shut down and the bladder stuff starts happening. It's not fair, and it's not right...

Most women, once the kids grow up and move away from home, take up collecting stuff like fancy gee-gaws or salt and pepper shakers and the like.
Me?
I collect directions to public restrooms between here and the border.
Honestly.
I have a notebook filled with directions to each and every toilet between here and wherever we're going.
With ratings.

Because there's nothing worse than hanging on for the last 6 miles to the nearest toilet, and then finding out the hard way, that they don't have toilet paper... or finding that the sink has been used as a barbecue pit for a bunch of young hooligans.
So, with my handy-dandy little guide and ratings system, I know that if we're going from here to... oh, let's say Bendigo, I need to double check that we have a spare roll of dunny paper in the car, and I need to pack an extra bottle of hand sanitizer, because there's no public sink for the next 40 miles or so.

How pathetic is my life?
Why did no one, in all those years of hearing talk about the freedom to do whatever you want once you got older, ever mention that your life would now be ruled by your bladder?

(Oh shit poop... did I actually say "young hooligans"?
I am getting old, aren't I? And here I thought it was just my bladder that was gettin' old....)

United breaks guitars...

A girlfriend sent this video to me several days ago, but I just got around to checking my email account this morning (Yeah,I've been bad)- and man.... I'm LMAO!

It's a true story, so go HERE to read it. ;-)
I've never heard of these guys before, but I gotta say, the guys voice is fantastic, and I love what's he's done with this song.

Take THAT, United Airlines!! Pbbbbbpppppttttt!
*snort*

Enjoy!

Sorry I haven't been around...

I did survive the long stint with 5 children, and I did it with one hand tied behind my back.
Piece of cake, actually...

The problem started after they left, when a stupid friggin' migraine reared it's ugly head, and then things just started building from there.
(if cheap chocolate gives you migraines, I recommend staying away from those little Nestle's chocolate mud cake coffee sticks. They're a killer.)

Then... I have the security lights guy coming out Thursday, and the bill for 2 double security lights, a power point and a wall sconce, not to mention partially re-doing the shed wiring, is gonna set me back approx. $300.

Then Jazzy, my sweet oldest cat, has problems with her ears, so a trip to the vet cost me $52 yesterday and we ended up scheduling a total ear resection for Friday, which is gonna be a further $500 or so.
More like the "or so" and it wouldn't surprise me to find that another $200 needs to be added to the original quote.
"Ear re-section" doesn't sound like too much does it? But what it means is removing about 80% of her ears to get rid of the dead and dying tissue.
To put it in layman's terms, they're gonna whack her ears off, and my stomach turns, even thinking about it.

And tonight? Like I said, I've been dealing with a killer migraine, and with the bills mounting, I have no choice but to continue working, so I work a full 8 hours today with 4 children, finishing at 5:30... and then at 6, I need to present myself for a 4 hour first aid course and see if I can survive until 10:30 tonight.
Only to get up at 4:30 tomorrow morning and start it all over again. And again and again...

Bills, taxes, sore pussy cats, headaches, paperwork.... It's all just got me snowed under right now, and feeling sorry for myself...
But when and if things settle down, I'll be back with my usual inane drivel.

Lucky you, eh?

Shhhh... don't wake the kids.

Because if we do, my day will start a little earlier than I want it to... and my sanity hangs in the balance, I'm tellin' ya.
So let's just whisper, okay?
Lean close, so I don't have to raise my voice.

This is the final week of school holidays, and we're actually into "hump day" today, but I think that term is a bit relative, considering what starts tomorrow night.
I've been up to my eyeballs in kids for a week and a half now, and although I have to admit that they've all been excellent, I've just about reached the end of my tether, you know what I mean?

Cooking, cleaning, tidying, scrubbing, replacing toilet paper 27 times a day, emptying the garbage bin twice or even thrice a day, breaking up arguments over a lousy plastic tractor and cow...
I want on the computer, no I want on the computer, it's my turn now.Taters... Clinton is laying on the floor again and he snatched the balloon off Jesse and can I have some of that chocolate cake we made?

Whine, whine whine... And that's more me, than it is the kids...

I'm tellin' ya, my get up and go has got up and went.

And what's coming tomorrow night?
OMG, I don't know if I'll survive the coming days!
Well, I will, because I do... but surviving with my sanity intact, is something else altogether.

Tomorrow night, I get a family of 5 children, and I get them for FOUR (oops, I forgot we're whispering ) four bloody days, while the parents head to Queensland to see the dying grandpa.
They're all good kids, excellent kids in fact... but because they're kids, they act like kids.
And they need to be tended to, and fed on a semi-regular basis.
For four bloody days!!!

Thankfully, my part-time-permanent care child leaves at 5 o'clock Thursday night, to be put into a respite facility for a couple of days... so that's one less hungry mouth to worry about.

And then I'll no sooner get this looong nerve-wracking, yet joyous weekend over and done with, and my regular work-week will start all over again.
Minus school aged kids of course., so less cooking in the kitchen and less changing of toilet rolls...

Lord 'ave mercy...

Send help.

Smiles and laughter, through the tears...

Thank you everyone !!

I mean that.
From the bottom of my heart!

Yesterday was a bit of a rough day for me, with it being Jake's birthday and all....
But you know, I also did a lot of smiling and I laughed out loud several times, just thinking about all the good memories - and it did my heart good to share them with you all. Your comments yesterday, touched my heart and made me smile ( and yes, I even snorted coffee through my nose a time or two!)

I guess it's true what they say.

"A burden shared, is a burden halved"...
and I honestly felt like you helped to lighten my load yesterday - so thank you again!

See, when I really, really thought about it, I realized that I had been blessed with 18 years of good memories and only the one heartbreaking one.
And by focusing on the good, by remembering and sharing the joys and the laughter, the funny little stories and just the ordinary wonderful days and years we had together... well, I just realized that I have a lot to be thankful for.

Jake left me a precious gift. The gift of his memory...
And to do anything but honor that gift and to look at it with thankfulness for what I've had, rather than with sadness for what I've lost, well, I'm doing Jake a disservice, and I'm letting him, and his memory down.

When my children were born, God gave me the greatest gift I've ever known...
The gift of joy.
But he never promised me that they - or that joy - would be mine forever.

But he did promise to be by my side through whatever this life threw my way... and he promised to be my rock and my comfort.
And he's never let me down yet!

So while I was just sitting and thinking of Jake yesterday afternoon, I asked God to give me a sign from above, to let me know that he heard my crying heart and to let me know that my son was safe in his hands.
And suddenly, the room lightened somewhat (it's been pretty dark and dreary here all week, with heaps of rain) and a beam of light came through the window, so I went outside.

Suddenly, two parrots swooped right down at me... coming within inches of my head before they turned, and as I followed their flight, I saw the rainbow!

Now, if those aren't all signs from above, I'll eat my hat!

The Rainbow

Mama Crimson Rosella and her teenager

It's pretty unusual for them to be around here at this time of year, so I really feel blessed.

~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't realize that I still had pictures on my card, so when I did the rainbow and bird pics, I found another 30 or so photos that I hadn't even gotten around to downloading yet.

And wow... I simply love the ones of the Big Tree over in Guildford!!
That tree is just massive and breathtaking but there's no way that a mere photo can do it justice!!!

I mean... just look at this baby!

It may not look like it, but that burl is absolutely HUGE!
It's actually bigger than the bed of the Ford truck we were driving, but I stupidly forgot to take a photo with the truck in it!

~~~~~~~~~~
And to finish... Just some stuff from around my house...

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

4th of July, and Happy Birthday, Jake !

Growing up, the 4th of July was always my favorite holiday, beating out Christmas and Thanksgiving... hands down.
There was just something special about summertime, warm weather, good food, the company of relatives... and to top it off, setting off our own fireworks while we waited for the "big" display that the town always had.
I just loved everything about it.

But in 1981, the 4th of July came to have a new - and even more special - meaning to me.

It was the day that my gorgeous little firecracker... my Jacob Christopher came into my life.
The day my son Jake was born.

Now, he was due to be born in mid-June, but he always was a stubborn little guy and he waited until the 3rd of July to even decide to come into the world.
And by then, I was more than ready to have him present himself, let me tell you!

It was a hard labor, and I was more than ready for him to come out, but my husband at the time (the infamous "he who shall remain nameless") thought it would be cool if we had a 4th of July baby, so he kept telling me to hang on... it's only another 7 hours until midnight.
Hang on... only another 4 hours.
Hang on... hang on....
I wanted that baby out, and I wanted it out NOW, but he wasn't born until 14 minutes past midnight.
Because Jake always did things in his own time.
But it was always worth the wait.

I had my very own little firecracker and life was good. Jake was a good baby and a sweet child, and I couldn't have asked for more.
Except for maybe more time with him.

I have great memories to look back on, and there are times that I feel that Jake and God gave me those good memories, to help ease the pain of what was to come.

Like the time when Jake was about 7 and he came running downstairs, naked as a jaybird, right after his bath.... only to skid to a total stop, when he saw that Pastor Gary and one of the church ladies were visiting...
Now, I raised my kids right, and I raised them with manners, so what did Jake do?

He covered his privates with both hands, then stuck his one hand out to shake Pastor Gary's hand, saying "it's nice to see you sir", while keeping his doodle covered with the other.
Then he high-tailed it back upstairs, making sure to keep his doodle covered... but his shiny little bottom was still in full view of everyone.

Thanksgiving 1990, my dear penpal from New Jersey - Elise - had come for a visit, and she and my daughter and I were in the house having a good old time, putting on a fashion show, videoing it, and just acting silly, you know?
Jake was outside, keeping himself occupied climbing the old Oak tree at the top of the driveway.
Well, I guess he climbed up there, took off his belt to sort of tie himself to a big old branch, not even realizing that there were red ants in that tree.

The ants started biting, Jake couldn't get the belt undone, so he had to shimmy out of his pants and climb down the tree, starkers.
The first we knew of it was when he burst into the house naked from the waist down, screaming:

"Ants were biting me and I yelled and yelled for you, and you never came! You're nothing but a bunch of GIRLS, and I HATE you! LOOK AT MY PENIS! The ants bit my penis, and if it falls off, it will be YOUR fault, you stupid girls!!! I'm gonna tell my teacher on you!

Of course, we were just rolling on the floor with laughter at the thought of him going to school and telling the teacher, and the more we laughed, the madder he got...
So his parting shot as he stomped upstairs was:

"I hope the ants bite YOU on your stupid penis's, so YOU know what it feels like, and then I'll laugh at you! I hope ALL your penis's fall off!!!

When Jake was little, he always thought that everyone celebrated the 4th of July in his honor, so when he would go with his dad and sister and brother to "man" the Fireworks booth for the CHP ( California Highway Patrol) he would invite everyone to his birthday party.
As he got older, he would would hint and beg for people to donate some kind of firework for his party, so that he could celebrate in "style". That was his actual word...

"Gee, wouldn't it be nice if I had one of those packs of sparklers (roman candles, Chinese Wheels etc) for my birthday? I could really celebrate my birthday in style..."

And you know, coming from a small town like that, there were always folks who would buy extras, just so Jake could have one!

Like I said, I raised my kids right, and I was prouder ... am still prouder - of all of them, than any mother has a right to expect.

Jake loved nothing more than going to the post office with me, and if he saw someone with their arms full of packages, he loved to run to open the door for them.
Old ladies were escorted to their cars, while Jake carried their extra packages for them... and if they attempted to pay him for his efforts, he always said
"No thank you mam... I'm just using my manners, and I don't need the money."

The last time I spoke to Jake on the phone, he told me that he had met the girl of his dreams, and he was going to marry her.
He kept saying that "She's a living doll, Mom, and you're going to love her."
It was Cheyenne this... and Cheyenne that... and it was clear that he loved this girl... and it did my heart good.

Jake was good and kind and funny and warm-hearted... and he would stick at something, never giving up, until he had accomplished it.
And he always had a heart of gold.

His final act on this earth, was to jump into the ocean and try and save his girlfriends brother.
Only this time, Jake didn't accomplish what he set out to do... and we lost both him and Mason that day. Cheyenne barely survived herself, because she had jumped in as well.

I lost my beautiful, sweet, youngest son on October 10th, 1999... and my world has never been the same since.

Now, on the 4th of July - Jake's Birthday - I always set off an entire box of sparklers, in his memory... and for the time it takes for them to fizz and sparkle and burn away, I get to live in another time and place.
If only for a while.

Happy Birthday Jake.

Your Mama misses you more than you know.