Life as I know it

Woe is me...

2010-03-09T17:52:00.003+10:00

My eldest child (#1) is in the Navy now. We took him to Townsville yesterday to join up. Then the nasty men took him away on plane to Melbourne.(Otherwise known as a place too far away for me to go and rescue him in one day.)

I have been practising hurling my arms around him a crying out "Don't Go, Dont go!" . Alternatively, I throw my arms around his shoulders crying out "Don't take my baby, Don't take my baby!" I have practised this so often at home that after enlistment when I went to give him a good-bye hug he flinched slightly, expecting me to show him up. Oh well at least he knows his mum.

I waited a full eight hours to ring him after he left.

Me: So was the flight all right?
#1: There was two
Me Did you change at Sydney?
#1: Uh
Me: Who told you where to go?
#1: We were unacompanied. (Sounding proud here)
Me: So you were ok with that? (Thinking to self, well I did see a girl with them, and he has reached Melbourne)
#1: It was Ok there was a girl with us.
Me: So, where are you now?
#1: Airport
Me:?
#1: We've got to wait for a bus before I can eat again. I haven't had anything since we landed.
Me: But you had breakfast and a meal voucher for lunch,
#1: And a meal on each plane ride
Me:?
#1:And now I've got to wait till we get to the barracks to eat again.

I hope the Navy has a lot of food, but they will won't they, they're used to teenage boys.

Note to self: Watch out when buying groceries, food will not be disappearing from fridge overnight as if by magic.

It's my birthday...

2010-02-28T22:02:00.003+10:00

Well it was my birthday yesterday anyway. All week people have been making me bad-tempered by asking where I'm going for my birthday.. that would be nowhere. What am I getting?...that would be nothing. At the gym, oooh are you going out tonight...I doubt it. Hurrumph.

Well I shouldn't be an evil tempered old bat, well only for fun. When I got back from the gym there was a trail of clues around the house that Homer and the children had left that led me from one place to the other until I found my present. A lovely little knick knack box..I love that stuff.

Later I was ordered to get dressed as we were going out and we went out for dinner. OMG. Homer even said that it wasn't that bad and maybe we'd go out again, maybe even together.

Happy Birthday #4

2010-02-08T20:12:00.002+10:00

Number 4 is ten today. I have to admit that there are times when I have wondered whether he would make it to double digits, the skateboarding down the north face of the Eiger incident for instance, or the finding of the new pet snake incident, or setting fire to the bedroom, or "flying" from the house roof to the tree.

At other times he has found himself perilously close to causing his mother to expire, the worms and play-doh in the microwave incident, or the locking mum in her bedroom by tying her bedroom door to the laundry door (on a day she had a job interview), or the undoing of the bolts fastening mummy's seat to her car floor incident.

Of course outsiders have views on #4 too. The parents of the chess club that he famously locked in the library to avoid extra reading lessons, the parents of the boy he showed how to get on the school roof, but neglected to show how to get down and the parents of the boy who he told about the play-doh/worms experiment, who then decided to reproduce the experiment with a cane toad.

There is a certain fame (or notoriety) involved in being the mother of #4. I am first name terms with the local fire, ambulance and police forces. Most of the local doctors and nurses know me though my son as well as professionally, and of course I am the source of endless merriment for these professionals at their meetings.

His birthday requests? Still wants a motor bike and a chain saw.

Living in hope..

2010-02-05T21:47:00.002+10:00

#4: There's no school on Monday.

Me: What???? !!!! I'm thinking to myself "OMG, who's looking after them on Monday, I've got work, and any-way haven't they only just gone back to school after six months off!!" (Slight exageration, but it felt like six months.) "That's just about right, another bloody pupil free day, let the teachers break back in to work gently " I'll admit by this point I was getting slightly hysterical.

Me: What do you mean "NO SCHOOL ON MONDAY!"

#4: It's raining, we'll have a storm day.

Me: It's Friday afternoon, On a scale of one to ten its raining at about a three, there WILL NOT be a storm day on Monday. Now be a good boy and fetch mummy's gin and valium.

A day at the zoo

2010-02-01T17:32:00.005+10:00

While grand-dad was here we took him to the zoo to see the local wildlife. It was so wet that we stayed for about five minutes and gave up.

I did get a couple of pictures of trees, and one of a very irritated koala. Koala's can be very nasty and bad tempered. This is probably because their diet disagrees with them. They have to eat eucalyptus leaves for six hours a day which then need the other eighteen hours a day to be digested and only provide enough energy for another six hours eating eucalyptus.

The ferns were in the crocodile pens. The crocodiles were all hiding in the water from the rain.

Dangers in the home

2010-01-31T17:47:00.003+10:00

We made beef bourguinon today. When we were frying the bacon it was spitting, a lot, so number four came up with a solution....

Reef trip

2010-01-21T15:34:00.004+10:00

We took grandad to the reef yesterday. It's not the best time of year due to an approaching cyclone. The sea was "lumpy" which led me to two conclusions, 1. # 3 and I can't join the navy and 2. #4 and Homer can. "How was it" every-one asked. "Great" I replied, "except for when I was throwing up or drowning due to bad snorkeling conditions. The picture is of #3 and #4 preparing to scare a shark. The red suits are stinger suits which stop jellyfish stinging you........except on your face. Shortly after this picture was taken I made both of the red devils put on life jackets as I was aging about three hundred years every two minutes trying to watch both of them.

Actually it wasn't that bad, even in the terrible conditions we travelled in due to the time of year we still saw giant clams and many different multi coloured fish. I'll go again, but in flat calm weather, and probably to Green Island so I can get solid soil under my feet. The whole trip was worth it for the photos we brought back tho, here's one of my favourites, #4 swimming with Wally the Napoleon Wrass.

Grand-dad meets #4

2010-01-20T21:58:00.005+10:00

Grandad (my dad) is over visiting for the first time in nine years, which means he hasn't seen #4 since he was a babe in arms. In a hopeful tone of voice as #4 charged into the distance I said, "He's all boy."

"Yes," replied grandad, "but faster."

See photo for evidence.

#4's still at it....

2010-01-17T10:25:00.002+10:00

Early in the morning I hear the mulcher start up and fly from my bed to the garden, knowing it can only be #4. He's got through the defences in the garage and extracted the mulcher and its power cord. (Hints for other #4 mothers, always keep power cords away from power tools, it slows them down, it doesn't stop them but it slows them down.)

So,I get outside in my dressing gown at 6am to find #4 mulching pumpkins (squash). He doesn't like pumpkin and he's noticed how well the pumpkin patch is doing, a problem he has now solved.

Technology and the idiot (me)

2010-01-16T23:19:00.002+10:00

Long break from blogging due to something I did to my computer that even the spotty youths at the computer shop were baffled by, as in "you did what?...and it what? so about the whisky stains....."

Any road up I just got Skype. I love it to bits! It's so easy to use. I double click on a name and there they are, a video call. Of course I have to phone by land line first to make a "date."

I was so excited when I got it that I wanted to use it straight away, but first to work out what time it is on the other side of the world. I had to wake Homer up to ask him what time it would be in England....after much cursing he told me and I realised my sister would be at work. I called her work number and got her answer phone, so I left a message and hung up.

Slightly miffed at not playing with my new toy I got on with other things. Half an hour later I heard "Bing bong...Your call has been terminated".

Apparently I hadn't hung up, just recorded my daily activities for my sister. She informs me that she cannot delete the "message" but will have to listen to it in its entirety. I'm left wondering what I did in that twenty minutes that might be embarrassing if she overhears it.....

Spring has sprung....

2009-11-15T17:59:00.005+10:00

At last the rain is here and from desert wasteland the back garden has turned green. Last week we were certain that the grass would never grow again, even though experience tells us otherwise. This week the children are already complaining that I have asked them to mow the grass, twice.

In celebration a picture of the first lemon blossom and a lovely blue (my favourite colur) flower called yesterday, today, tomorrow. The flowers turn from blue to lilac to white and go forever.

Even the avocado and pomegranate have come back to life, although the banana hasn't survived the drought. (Sorry M, who gave it to me). M brought me a banana plant to work wrapped in bin liners. She's vertically challenged and did look rather like she was bringing a body in to work over her shoulder. Customers kept eyeing up the package in the corner, warily. That's what happens if you cheese us off I felt like saying.

Sometimes you have to ask a different way...

2009-11-02T21:32:00.003+10:00

Part of my job is to find out what drugs people were on before admission, including the social ones,

Me: Do you drink alcohol?

P: No

I'm looking at this guy and thinking, "You look like you might to me."

Me: Are you sure?

P: Yes

Me: So no beer or spirits or wine

P: No

Me: Not even at Christmas or at parties?

P: Oh, you mean besides since I was admitted?

Me: Yes

P: Oh well I have the occasional drink

Me: ?

P: A slab (For the non-Aussies that's about 36 cans.)

Me: A slab? How long does that last?

P: ?

Me: How often do you buy a slab?

P: Lunch-time and on the way home from work.

Me: Every day?

P: (Short pause.) Sometimes I get an extra one at the week-end for the missus.

Tips for sage smudging the house...

2009-10-31T12:53:00.003+10:00

1.The cat likes sage smoke and chases it but I think one of the chickens may be asthmatic. Have you ever heard a wheezy chicken, its peculiar.

2.Small children help with this, but will try to set things on fire with the smudge stick if not watched carefully, so negating the whole purpose of the process.

3. Do the inside of the house way before the stick gets going properly if you want to avoid explaining to the fire brigade what brought about this false alarm.

4. Check for neighbours...I mean what would you think if you saw a portly middle-aged woman wandering around her garden muttering to herself, followed by a cat that looks like it's having fits and a child that seems to be trying to set fire to the bushes?

The Bambi Years..

2009-09-20T10:46:00.003+10:00

My sister has bought into Peppa pig in a big way. (No I don't know either, but I think its some sort of children's mass hypnosis experiment like Bob the Builder, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or the Teletubbies). About to leave a sarcastic comment on her blog I stopped when I recalled the BAMBI YEARS.

#2 had a thing for Bambi. Morning, noon and night Bambi, Bambi, Bambi. I could talk along with Bambi. And note all you youngsters out there, this was vid-ee-o, a thing that was popular before DVD's. Vid-ee-o, which meant the whole family had to watch Bambi as there was no such thing as a personal Video player, or playing videos on games machines or the family computer.

I really appreciated Nigella's "little joke" about Rudolph pie .

At least it sounds like peppa pig has attitude, unlike Bambi. I used Shrek for #3 and #4 until I discovered that #3 would rather watch Stargate, and #4 likes camouflage and taking things apart. I wonder if I can get a camouflage toothbrush for him?

Question of the day....

2009-09-12T23:57:00.004+10:00

Q: How many tiny, tiny ball bearings in a skateboard wheel?

A: I don't know, I haven't found all of them yet.

#4 just broke his skateboard doing a really ultimate something or other, in the front room. Now I've got Sting in my head singing "Every step you take" as I manfully try and sweep thousands of tiny ball bearings up off a tile floor. (I'd use my vacuum cleaner but I think they might break it.)

#4 wants to know how he's going to practise doing his really ultimate whatevers. I have a few suggestions.

Olden days?

2009-09-05T18:41:00.003+10:00

So if I said "Olden Days Music" would you think, I don't know, Vaudeville? Waltzes? maybe even Billy Holliday?

Me: Where are you going with that?"

#4: What?

Me: That's your brothers ipod, put it back.

#4: AAAwwwwwww

Me: You can borrow mine

#4: AAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!

Me: What?

#4: It's full of olden days music....aaaaaahhhhhh.

Me: ?

I knew I had an eclectic, and maybe old for my age taste in music, but I mean, there's ACDC, and Pink, and the Sex Pistols on it. (and Johnny Cash, and Creedance, and Led Zep and Neil Diamond admittedly, ) but OLDEN DAYS!!! I mean, really.

.

The joys of home cooking...

2009-08-30T21:07:00.004+10:00

I'm often told that my children are lucky because I cook most meals from scratch. (Don't post me a halo, cooking is my hobby,) They often feel less lucky, words I have heard this week....

" Is that one of the cute chicks that you murdered?. Why are you attacking it with a machete? You already murdered it."

Thank-you #3, remind me not to let you watch me joint a chicken in future.

" EEEEhuew , mum, whats that? They eat dirt, the man on animal planet said they eat dead things, look, look, its got eyes, look.....eeeehuew..."

Thank-you #4, so now I know what crabs eat. (Slight aside, is it a cornish thing that the lungs are called "dead mens fingers"? When I called them that in the fishmonger he looked at me like I'd got three heads. )

"Eeeeeuuew, WE SAID we wouldn't eat slimy squid things and hiding them with dead mens fingers in fish cakes won't make us so there!!!!!" (No, the dead mens fingers weren't in the fish cakes, reminder to self, don't take #4 to fish mongers.)

"Mum, mum, why are you putting wee in the pan, mum...." (It was chicken stock!!!)

"This pizza isn't round, I can't eat it."

"Look #3, look, these carrot strings fit up my nose and when I blow..." (So don't practice julienning veggies on #4's tea in future.)

"Mum, why's it called sticky toffee pudding? It didn't stick to the ceiling, mum."

And of course my all time favourite, this week, " Why can't we have real food like they do on the telly."

Making beds a la #4

2009-08-22T21:21:00.002+10:00

" #4 make your bed."

"No, I mean sheet, pillow and put the quilt back on the bed."

" Bring it back from the garden then."

"What do you mean the roof?"

"Just bring it in."

"ON your bed, NOT under your bed."

"I'll be back in a minute, just make sure its all on your bed."

Loud crash, followed by cat yowling.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean an allan key?"

"When I said MAKE your bed I meant put the sheet and quilt back on it. I did NOT mean take it apart with the allan key you had hidden when the man came to fix the washer."

Phone tales #2

2009-08-06T12:50:00.002+10:00

Me: has anyone seen my phone?"

Silence. I think to myself that I'm sure I brought it back from the ward and put it on that shelf there, and then I? Mmmm, I ring it. Silence. Maybe when I went back to the ward I took it with me and left it there? I go back to the ward and go around the beds. No, no phone. I ring my phone from the ward phone. Silence.

I go back to the department, keeping an eye out in case I dropped my phone. No. I get back to the department and use the department phone to ring my phone. I walk around the department listening for my phone. Silence.

Eventually the switchboard answer my "phone". No, they haven't got my phone, its just been ringing so long with no answer that it has diverted to them.

I stand befuddled in the department, gazing hopelessly into space. Where oh where did I leave my phone?

Colleague: "Whose phone is this?"

Me: "Mine, Oh thank-you, where was it?"

Colleague: "At the back of the cold room, see it's covered in frost." (And it is, it's little screen has ice crystals on it.)

Let me paint you a picture...

2009-08-01T19:03:00.005+10:00

My sister was discussing with me on the phone how much she had to get done this week. She's singing at a wedding on Friday but has much to get done before then, including nursing our cantankerous father after his hip replacement. (Pain makes him cranky but taking pain killers is a sign of weakness.)

The bride has offered her a spray tan, but she doesn't know how she'll fit it in. This is probably a good idea she says, as the last time she had one she was orange and "Looked like fourteen Victoria Beckhams in one Hermes Leger bandage dress all fighting to get out."

Phone tales #1

2009-07-30T19:54:00.003+10:00

We carry phones around at work. The advantage is that we can be found anywhere at any time to answer queries and problems from our wards. The disadvantage is that we can be found at any time to answer queries and problems...

Of course remembering to carry these phones everywhere can be challenging for some of us.

Colleague: Has any one seen my phone?

Us: No, try ringing it.

Colleague: Yeah, I'll do that.

A loud ringing is heard from the colleague. She looks down. Her phone is attached to a lanyard around her neck........
(and these are not small handsets, think brick sized.)

You know you've been at work too long when...

2009-07-25T21:22:00.002+10:00

Colleague." Is there a dead lion?"

Me: "No"

Time passes.

Me: "Why are you asking me about dead lions?"

Colleague: " No. A dead line."

Me" "Oh."

Heard over a hospital bed today...

2009-07-19T21:57:00.001+10:00

No No NO I said his left not your left.

Reasons for not bathing ...

2009-07-17T11:29:00.003+10:00

It's always been a bit of a problem getting #4 clean, and now he's finally told me why. Apparently water makes his skin feel "funny". When pushed I discover that "funny" means "wet" and/or "clean". I suggested maybe a shower instead of a bath. He assures me that that would be even worse, as it would involve getting his hair wet.

I pointed out to him that getting wet didn't cause him any problems when it meant playing in the storm drains . He assured me that that is different, as the water is already dirty in there.

Short but sweet....

2009-06-23T23:24:00.005+10:00

Child 2's most memorable report comment. She changed schools in her last year, and with great trouble and after loud demands was put into a manual arts class. (Woodwork and stuff).

End of year report for manual arts: "#2 who? "

She hadn't attended a single lesson and the teacher thought her name was a mistake on his enrolment list. At least it explained why I didn't get a new mug tree and stool that year.

Number one seeks work..

2009-06-22T21:40:00.004+10:00

Number one went for his year ten equivalency test on Saturday. He needs to do this test to join the Navy. We are sure he completed year ten but for some reason his records have disappeared. We know he completed year ten because we have a report card from year eleven, issued on the same day as a letter explaining to us that school probably wasn't the right place for our uneducatable son.

"Uneducatable, is that a word? " I asked.

"It is now." replied a clearly traumatised year eleven co-ordinator. (I'm sure she didn't have that twitch when I first met her, strange, oh well.)

The lack of formal education, and what can only be described as atrocious report cards, have understandably held him back in the job market. He's going to join the Navy. (Army, risk of shooting self: Air force, risk of falling out of sky: Navy, hard to shoot oneself with a cannon pointed away from the boat.)

So year ten equivalency test. He says it was easy. Most of the questions were really easy and the answers were written down anyway. Further prompting led me to the conclusion it was a multiple choice exam, with some graph reading. I had to use torture to get that much information out of him (I told him his play station controller was broken).

I took him for a beep test as well. He has to get to six point two to get in. (That's quite fast.) I got to two point two. I was pleased with that, after all three months ago I thought the only thing faster than walking was driving in a car. He only got to four, and then we had to push his nicotine stained lungs back up his nose with a stick.

Beep test: Pointless running of laps between two markers twenty meters apart, in time to beeps that get gradually faster and closer together. Invented by the KGB as a method of keeping warm in Siberia.

Report time...

2009-06-20T09:55:00.003+10:00

As you can imagine school report time is an "interesting" one in our house. When it involved #1 and #2 school report time was signalled by #2 handing over a pristine piece of paper, her halo gently shining in the afternoon sunlight. Her report was full of comments such as "A pleasure to teach", "wonderful student", "helpful", "interested" and "lovely attitude".

Before my head could fill up with pictures of my cherubic children gazing wide eyed and excited into the world of learning I would wake myself up with the knowledge that I now had to search #1 and his environs for his report. This was full of such gems as "lacks concentration", "disruptive" and "if I could read his hand writing maybe his marks would be higher." This report would be found crunched up with a few rips and possibly holding some half chewed chewing gum in the bottom of his school bag. On one occasion it was in a puddle next to where the car was parked on report day. I was called into school the next day and presented with the evidence of my child's "careless disregard" for the school's authority.

My favorite comment from this era was on #2's report. "Hard to believe she is the sister of #1."

Time passes and now the school has to deal with #3, they heave a sigh of relief as they realise they have a shiny new version of #2. Then comes #4.

Pop quiz...guess who these are about.

"Thinks outside the box", "has a refreshingly different view on many subjects", "a master of independent thinking", "has an old mind, we can only hope it's Isaac Newton's and not Attila the Hun's" (That last from the religious studies teacher).

At the bottom of the report is a section advising whether a parent interview is required. Number three doesn't require a parent interview ("No" box ticked). Hand-written in the small area at the bottom of #4's report " The regular weekly update should suffice."

Footy...

2009-06-14T11:20:00.005+10:00

Here's a shot of my new Sunday morning activity. Watching #4 play AFL. The backdrop is the rain forest behind our house. #4 can be seen ignoring the coach's final words of wisdom before running onto the pitch.

And here he is helping the ref with a tricky decision.
P.S. slimy squid things were ok by #4, but #3 refused on principle.

Eat more fish....

2009-06-13T14:25:00.007+10:00

Madonna says that now I have tried out "run...ning" and "tri....cep....dips" I should get my diet in order. Luckily this is Madonna my personal trainer, not Madonna the anorexic baby adopting streak of gristle. I don't think I'd last long on her regime before testing out the edibility of my keyboard.

No, my Madonna gives me easy targets. Week one was eat fruit. (Tick) Week two was eat fruit every day. (Tick) Week three was eat vegetables with every evening meal (Tick). Week four was eat vegetables every evening and fruit every day, not one or the other. (Oh, woops, tick) Week five has been stop eating chocolate, (actually, an easy tick, I don't eat chocolate, just don't tell her about the cheese.) Week six, she found out about the cheese...(sulky tick). Week seven, eat fish.

Now this is an easy one for me, I like fish but I am not world reknown for my ability to cook it. More for my ability to buy it deep-fried in batter. So, as I understand that this might not be what she means by "eat more fish" I went to my local fish market, of which there are at least three in easy reach of my house. (Line through another excuse there.) I've brought home some squid for salt and pepper squid (which ticks Homer's no bones box) They are cheaper to buy ready prepared than not, which confuses me, but saves me the bother of covering my kitchen in squid ink.

#3 "Whats that?"
Me "Squid."
#3 "What for?"
Me "Dinner"
#3 " Oh yuck, #4, #4 she's bought slimy squids for tea and we've got to eat them raw or she'll spank us she said so #4 #4."
Me "?"
#3 "look at the slimy squids, they look like dead things yuckeeeeee"
Me"?"
#4 "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUK we can't eat them slimy squid things they'll be all slimy and yuckeee. I'm ringing up the shops to tell them not to sell you slimy squid things"

So...slimy squid things for tea then....Can't see them being called that down at Gordon Ramsey's but hey ho, that's what they are in our house now.

The phone call...

2009-06-07T21:46:00.002+10:00

I called my sister yesterday for our fortnightly twenty four hour call. It was my turn (as it has been for a long time), and I got her on what would be Saturday morning there.

Obviously with a toddler in the house there is background noise, "Hold on a sec while I take this drum off her...There that's better." Now as I chat to my sister I can hear a small voice in the background saying, "Bang, bang, bang." She overcame that obstacle then.

The conversation turns to her toddler ways, the stubborness, the shoe fetish, the demands for food, the general happiness of being. I don't know where she gets it from sighs my sister, I have to point out that its probably genetic. "I don't have any unusual love for shoes," sighs my sister. This time I clearly hear her husband choking to death as he tries to stop swallowing his tongue laughing.

Now I can hear faint banging in the background, "What's that?"

"Oh, She's sweeping the hall. She stands in one place and jumps up and down holding the broom. I blame myself she doesn't know how to do housework because she's never seen me do any." A genetic link between me and my sister then.

My first manicure..

2009-06-07T09:53:00.005+10:00

I know forty something is probably a bit late to get your first manicure but I never seemed to have the time, money and inclination all at the same time before. With some trepidation and excitement I set off yesterday to have my first ever professional manicure.

Full of eagerness I turned up at "ProfessioNAILS" (No appointment necessary) and asked for a ?. My first problem is that I don't know the technical term for what I want. (Nice looking nails that can take laundry, housework, typing, hospital hand cleaners, #4's leavings, the cats leavings, gardening, weights at the gym and possibly some light mechanical work on my car.) Apparently I want acrylic nails with a french finish.

Can I have them now? The shop looks busy (surely a good sign), and clean except for the little Chicky in front of me who looks, well , dirty...Yes I can have them today if I come back in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes later I return and am led to a chair by the surly, unkempt, dirty girl. Oh well. She immediately stops all conversation by placing a mask over her face and waving me to sit down opposite her.

"What you want?" (Actually she had to say this three times as the combination of the mask, her Filipino accent and the fact she was looking at some one else whilst asking the question threw me slightly.) I re listed my requirements to the top of her head as she got her tools from the draw. Firmly grasping my hand she proceeded to clip off my existing nails...."You no mind I cut these, EH!" I still don't know what I'm getting but she's got a grip like a vice on my hand so I figure I'm along for the ride now.

Next she takes a small angle grinder to my nails. She holds my hand firmly whilst flicking the desired finger up as she needs it, meanwhile I quietly writhe in agony and twist about like a fish on a line at the other end of my arm as she moves it for a better angle. (I am quite certain that the nerves in my nail beds somehow conect with my fillings after this experience.)

I'm a little stunned mullet a this point. Now she starts talking and gamely I try to keep up, until I realise shes talking to her Filipino friend next to her in Tagalog. Probably saying something along the lines of "I've got a right one here" or alternatively talking about the game last night or her husband. (I'm going for the latter from the way she stabs my nail with the grinder.)

Next a box of false tips comes out and she wearily starts measuring my fingers, sighing as she goes. I feel like apologising that my nails don't fit the plan she had in her head...my nails are the same size as the tips she has, just not the first one she picks up.

Idly I start to look around the shop. There are women having pedicures and foot massages. The girl giving one of them is staring out of the door behind her as she massages the clients leg. How is she doing that I wonder, is she double jointed? "HEY HEY HOW LONG I SAY". Oh, she's talking to me now. I indicate the desired length, still not entirely sure what I've signed up for here and her head goes down again as she sets to work.

I start to pay attention to my hand again as she asks about shape. She kindly explained this to me following the blank stare I gave her when she asked. She gamely grinds the tips with a different angle grinder and takes my fingerprints off at no extra charge. Next she puts on another mask (on top of the existing one) and gets out a small pot of steaming something. She squirts something on my nails (I don't know what) and then tells me to go and wash my hands. (I assume this was some sort of oil for conditioning.)

Back at the desk she looks like a CDC worker in the middle of an Ebola outbreak. I worry about what she's going to use on my nails...is it toxic?...it's too late she's ground my nails to tissue paper now. With amazing skill she deftly mixes powder and juice on a brush and applies it deftly to my nails. (I was amazed at the skill, when I was at an angle I could see, as she was still flipping me about like a dead fish on a fishing line.)

I began to worry a little as she got up and walked off, shouting to lady who'd just come in, "Choose a colour, JUST CHOOSE A COLOUR I SAY CHOOSE A COLOUR." I begin to worry that she means me, as usually when she talks to me she looks at some one else. No, she is definitely talking to a lady who's just come in. A regular client with an appointment, who looks cowed by the experience. I relax slightly and go back to watching the bored pedicure girl. "HEY HEY YOU PAY NOW!" I look doubtfully at my nails but oblige by paying up and then I'm directed back to my seat and thankfully the nails are coated in some sort of quick drying pottery glaze, or possibly car wax. Let any-thing try and stain that..huh!.

My girl leans over and flicks on a small electric fan. "Five minutes" and stomps off. I hear her shouting at her next client, "YOU CHOOSE COLOUR EH?" About five minutes later I leave the shop feeling like I've been in a small car accident in a foreign country, but with sexy nails.

So far I've done cooking, washing, typing and gardening with them. They are still pristine. I will probably maintain them (early days yet) and may even go back to the surly girl who doesn't speak to me, as after all, she did a good job.

Blood thirsty children..

2009-05-22T20:15:00.002+10:00

I've never been afraid of teaching my children where food comes from, we have a veggie patch and chooks for eggs. Last week we bought four chicks to fatten up for Sunday dinners.

#4; Ahh aren't they cute.
#3: Ahh aren't they cute.
#3 and #4: Can we keep them? Can we? Can we?

Me: No, they're for eating when they get big enough.

#3 & #4: Pleeeeeese, just one, they're so cute. Pleeeeeese.

Me: No

#3 & #4 : Pleeeese, pleeese, pleeese.

Me: No, we're going to eat them.

#3 & #4: Can we help make them into dinner, can we ? pleeese? Are we eating them this week? Can I eat that one?.....pleeeeese?

Backyard Projects.

2009-04-29T16:29:00.008+10:00

I mentioned to Homer that it was "ABOUT TIME I GOT MY PATIO".
#4 has obliged. I'm not sitting on the stool though, look at the left hand leg.

I of course was working hard, planting up the winter veggie patch. I treated myself to shiny new bean canes this year. I have recycled the last ones so often they are now a lethal weapon splitting into flying splinters the second a puff of wind hits them. Note the patented bird preventing cage over the cabbages.

Last year the pigeons waited until I was ready to pick the cabbages before descending en masses to devastate the entire crop. They were closely followed by the cockatoos which devastated the bok choi. Cockatoos may seem exotic and exciting when you first move to the tropics, until they descend like a flock of ill behaved teenagers on your fruit trees a fling half eaten starfruit to the ground. About that time you go off them. This is underlined when they repeat the act with your fig tree. Similar behaviour is the reason that minah birds are locally called flying rats.

Out of the mouths of babes....

2009-04-25T22:34:00.002+10:00

Now we all know that we shouldn't say bad words in front of the children , a lesson I learned the hard way when I braked hard in the car and a small voice piped up from the back seat..."PRATT". Of course,at this point you mustn't correct the child about the naughtiness of the said word, or it gets worked into every conversation. For example,

"Just blow into this tube madam."

"Pratt"

"Pardon?"

"Oh that was the two year old in the back."

"Pratt, pratt, pratt, pratt..."

"I see madam, just blow into the tube."

I wanted to say it isn't my fault that on the day you pulled me over for a random breath test my child had just learned the joys of a new way of irritating its mother, I want to say it but can't. After all, who did the child learn that word from? I have instead had to learn new words to describe other car drivers.

Of course that early lesson didn't stick and all my children have repeated things I'd rather they hadn't.

"Mummy, mummy, the interfering old bat from over the road is at the front door!" (Called loudly through the house with front door open.)

"Mummy, mummy, didn't you say you'd boil your head before she came in our house again?"

"Mummy, mummy, what does a warthog look like, does it really look like Aunty Jean? Mummy, mummy, does it?"

And of course there is #4's unnatural talent for burping tunes. I have to grudgingly admit that I can name the tune fairly often, although I'd never admit it to him. Especially not since he burped along to his rival classes song in school assembly, cracking up the back three rows and a couple of teachers, before being hauled out to his seat outside the headmasters's office.

My new vacuum cleaner.

2009-04-18T17:19:00.005+10:00

It's official, I have a sad life. My most exciting news is that I have a new vacuum cleaner, and worse still, that it has made me excited. It is a very good vacuum cleaner. It sucks, (and it blows, as Bart Simpson would say.)

I have had at least three vacuum cleaners a year since I moved into this house. They languish unloved, kicked and hated in the back of the garage until they go to the dump. My unnatural rate of vacuum cleaner destruction is a composite of many problems, so I compiled a list of questions for the unctuous young man in the vacuum cleaner shop. This particularly oily salesman has served me before and really he should know by now that raising one greasy eyebrow at me is not going to drive me to a quivering heap on the floor. I have heard the patter before about various devices that will make my cleaning life fun and exciting.....as if!!!

Instead I presented my questions.

1. Does it suck...hard..and for how long will that suck last? Will the suck recover if we "accidentally" vacuum up a moist substance such as jelly?

2. Does it blow? I mean if I jam the hose up with something, say a small piece from a board game which has then captured a family of dust bunnies, two feathers and something green, can I reverse the hose to blow out the obstruction?

3. If a helpful child tries to clean a Lego piece out of the hose with water and doesn't tell me will the suck recover?

4. Allied to 3, will attempting to rescue a pet fish from the toilet with the vacuum kill the vacuum? (The fish was already dead.)

5. Can people of between 2 foot six and six foot five use it? can they do it easily, as in "I couldn't be bothered setting the vacuum up for me to use, it's still on your setting....." (This last one removes all upright vacuums from the equation, but so do many more of my questions.)

6. Can I vacuum under furniture without actually lying flat on the floor?

7. If something small and heavy is vacuumed up is there an effective backstop? (This last from a bad experience with a small bolt about three vacuums ago.)

8. Are the bags strong? (See 7.)

9. If I vacuum up a large spider can you guarentee it is dead? It's not going to crawl out later is it?

10. If I vacuum up homework can I extract it without a blowtorch?

11. Will sawdust catch fire in it? (see vacuum 2.)

12. Just exactly how good is the filter? and how easy is it to remove and clean?

13. Is the electric cord long enough for me to vaccum more than one corner of each room at a time without constantly changing power outlets, or using a spaghetti of extension leads?

14. All those handy gadgets that come "free"? Do they live on the cleaner, handy for when needed, or at the back of the cupboard under three years of junk? (Although I think the thing I'm using in the kitchen as a jam funnel was a gadget for vacuum four.)

15. Does it look enough like a space ship that children will use it in their bedrooms?

16. If children use it in their bedrooms is it loud enough for hamsters to know to move very quickly the other way?

17. Is it manly enough for a man to use....big, black and brooding with a headlight etc? (The Hummer of the Hoover world)

18. Is it light enough for me to use?

19. Does it reach the edges? Can I get the end off to reach in the corners without a screwdriver and a degree?

20. Oh and if it could do all that on its own while I sit with my feet up and a good book.......

He did sell me a vaccum, although he says I shouldn't vacuum workshop debris up with it. I explained that its not workshop debris, it's the debris of my life but he didn't believe me.

What I did in the holidays...

2009-04-12T21:35:00.002+10:00

As has now become a family tradition we spent the public holiday at the doctors. We spent Boxing day, New Years Day, Australia day and now Easter Sunday at the local emergency doctors.

Number three was looking a bit peaky on Thursday but we (foolishly) decided he'd get over it. He did, he just gave it to #4 first. #4 spent Saturday night crying and weeping, moaning and thrashing about. He demanded cuddles, but not too hard, and vomited many, many times, usually just after having medicine.

Sunday morning I put on my last set of clothes that had not been vomited on and, pausing only to check I had no vomit encrusted in my hair I headed out to the doctors, with both children and Homer in tow. Homer drives whilst I hold the basin under #4's face as I don't want my car to smell of vomit for the next six months. While driving Homer rings the clinic to make sure our standing public holiday referral is still open and I ring home to make sure #1 moves some of the washed bedding from the washer to the dryer, and refills the washer.

On arrival at the clinic we go through to our usual cubicle. A nurse I didn't know, but with a full "Working on a public holiday and not happy " face asks in a condescending voice when #4 has last vomited. Just at the opportune moment he covered her starched white blouse with vile green liquid, a la exorcist. "Just about then" I blithely say.

#4 gets an injection to stop him vomiting, so we can him medicine to bring down his temperature.

We know he's recovering when he tells #3 that he's just had an injection in his BONES and that #3 will have to have one too, and it really really hurts,....a lot. (Funny that, he didn't flinch while he got his, but he knows to tell #3 its gonna hurt..)

EEeeeeukkkkk!!!!!

2009-04-09T23:03:00.002+10:00

Number 3 has taken up trumpet playing. Actually that isn't as bad as it could be. I have discovered that by having three closed doors between us I can no longer hear him practising.

Every now and then I go and listen to a tune, and try and name it. Sometimes I get it right!!

Number 4 has not taken up trumpet playing. He has however developed a fascination with valves and brass instrument construction. I can now put a trumpet back together with one hand whilst driving over the speed limit on the school run. I have heard that in the SAS you have to be able to break down, clean and re build your gun blind folded. Huh, child's play. They should do it whilst trying to re-assure one child that the trumpet will be fine, and the other that he needs to put his seat belt on NOW! All this to the accompniament of each child screaming that the other is on HIS side of the car.

"Mum he touched me...MUM HE TOUCHED ME."

"Mum, He's on MY SIDE of the CAR..MUM...MUM"

I'm changing my name.

The music teacher assures me that that is not spit that has drained out of the trumpet over my work uniform, it is simple condensation. The "oil-like" stain IS however oil, brass instrument valve oil.

Let them eat cake...

2009-04-04T22:22:00.002+10:00

Thursday was my day off, so I made three lemon cakes. I always make two cakes, one gets eaten as it comes out of the oven, the other might even cool down. This time I made three so that I could take one to work. When I got up Friday morning all that remained of the three cakes was a pile of crumbs and a dirty knife.

Friday I made three apple cakes. These last a long time in a container. Well they would, but on Saturday afternoon I opened the tin for a piece and found a currant and a few crumbs.

Saturday afternoon I made two chocolate cakes. (I only had enough eggs left for two cakes, the girls can't keep up with the demand.) I just went to the kitchen for a piece of cake. I found a small pile of crumbs.

In the front room Homer and numbers 1, 3 and 4 are seated in a semi comatose position in front of the rugby, unable to move through cake poisoning.

I'm not the only one....

2009-04-02T19:14:00.002+10:00

Footie practise this evening, all the parents are sat in their cars watching the practise (or in my case reading and silently thanking the Lord that someone else is supposed to be in control of my child).

The scene is picturesque. The green grass of the oval, the backdrop of gum trees with the occasional call of the Kookaburra. To my left is a large mound of mud, (soon to be spectator seating) and to my right other parents settled down for an hours peace.

Suddenly from my right,

"Hey, hey, yes, you A, you. Don't look behind you, you're the only A here. get on the oval or I'm putting you in the boot." (That's the trunk for Americans).

A quick glance to my left reveals child A on top of the mound of mud, with a large clod in his hand.

"I mean it, get back on the oval.....now"

Child A heads for the oval and I duck my head back into my book.

"Hey, A, I told you , back on the oval or I'm putting you in the boot."

Half time and the children descend on the cars for a drink.

#4 ducks to the back for a drink. His cherubic (I'm his mum, I'm supposed to think that way) face smeared in mud and sweat. Child A heads to the next car.

"Hey, shut the boot, get out of the boot, I'm not telling you again, get out of the boot. Is that mud you're putting in there? "

It's good to know I'm not the only one. (Incidentally the baby ogre has transferred from AFL to soccer, it's less violent. )

He's at it again..

2009-03-09T19:12:00.003+10:00

Ring Ring,

Hello, CCC pharmacy can I help you?

PC: Is Eve there?

"It's for you Eve, I don't know who it is, they sound upset?"

Me: Hi, how can I help you.

PC: It's #4.

Me: Silence

PC: Hello.......hellooooo, I know you're there.

Me: Ye..es, it's me. Did you try home.

PC: You don't know what he's done yet.

Me: Did you try our house first?

PC: Yes, Come and get him.

Me: I should be able to make it in....

PC: NOW

Me: (carefully) What did he do?

PC: It's shave for a cure day in a few days. (People shave their heads for charity.)

Me: Yes?

PC: S****** J***** had long blond hair this morning. (My heart beat really fast here.)Do you use food colouring at home?

Me: ? (gulp)

PC: Green food colouring?

Me: ? sorry

PC: S.J's hair is green, all over.

Me: Thank God for that. (People colour their hair as well on shave for a cure day.)

PC: ?

Me: Oh I thought you meant he'd cut her hair off. (Short pause) How blonde was her hair, and how long?

PC: White, she can sit on it.

Me: Oh

PC: Come and get him, NOW.

Luckily SJ's mum is being pretty cool about it, she laughed and said "It'll come out easier then the bubble gum did. I have two boys, don't worry. Really, don't worry."

I had my doubts that #4 had done it as there is no trace of green on him, which seems highly unlikely. The teacher says he put his hands in plastic bags to protect them while he coloured S's hair, "like the hairdresser does". The teacher looked meaningfully at my newly coloured hair.

We left.

A new doctor.

2009-03-08T09:38:00.002+10:00

I decided I would get a new doctor, one that instilled confidence into me, one that seemed to know what he (or she) was talking about, one that would tell me what the heck is going on with my health. I did research and found a GP that 1. Is known as good at hearts and 2. Is open when I can see them. (A combo that is no small feat in our town.)

Mmmmm. For my survival a good idea, for my peace of mind a bad idea. I need ten more years before #3 and #4 are "old enough", obviously I'd like more.

I explained how every time I'd seen my last doctor he'd given me a new diagnosis, worse than the last, so I'd stopped going. A plan that, so far, was working very well for me. My new doctor agreed that some of my old diagnoses did seem a bit "out there", so we'd start from scratch, so to speak.

It got worse though, apparently denial is not an effective cure for heart disease. (Who knew?...me lol). So, an increase in blood pressure meds, a new medicine added and a new shaking of head and tutting at my ecg and another armful of blood later I await a new dreadful diagnosis in a state of denial.

Also, I can't start smoking again. This is good news, I have always maintained that when I get ill enough I shall start smoking again as it was a past time I enjoyed. Once my health is truly stuffed there will be no point in maintaining my abstinence and I shall restart.

Yes, folks it's six months since I quit and although I wouldn't kill anyone for a cigarette, or even harm them severely, I still want one, a lot.

Unfortunately (actually fortunately) I can maintain my exercise regime and increase it, but the lard butties have to stay off the menu.

My new doctor gave me a talking to, and a plan of action.

1. Actually get blood pressure under control.

2. Probably add more meds to the ever increasing list I am on, although he did stop two as pointless.

3. Try and actually lose some weight....perhaps 20 kilos? mm? (I didn't hide my sulking about this)

4. Increase my exercise (see 3.)

5. Lose about three inches off my waist ( a deal struck from the initial six he wanted.)

6. Less cheese and salt.

7. And, No, smoking is still out. (I knew that, but I keep checking.)

A slightly depressing post, but I need to itemise my plan of action and actually stick with it. Writing down what needs doing means I (may) have to do so some of it, or at least face facts.

Cyclone watch

2009-03-06T21:11:00.003+10:00

Cyclone Hamish is sitting off the coast, lurking with intent. So far it is taking after its name and wavering about like a Glaswegian on Sauchiehall (or something) street on a Saturday night.

Jokingly, last time they called a cyclone a stupid name (Larry) I said that nothing with such a dumb name could do much damage, at which point it set off for our house in a straight line unheard of before or since in cyclone mapping. In deference to this history I shall say that Hamish will be taking after all things Celtic and causing mayhem and madness (or falling down drunk in the middle of the coral sea after an all nighter.)

Hamish is only a three, and we've bought a generator, so I think all in all we'll be fine.

#1 wants to be sure we've got enough beer in, #2 wants to go to her boyfriends, #3 has practised the trumpet (oblivious as always) and #4 wants to know if the roof is going to blow off. Yes, yes, stop that and hopefully not.

My birthday...

2009-02-28T10:02:00.003+10:00

Yesterday was my birthday and I got presents. Presents with thought behind them!

1. Homer had scoured the Internet and got me two books of Wilfred Owen's poetry. Not to every ones taste but I find it very moving, if in a rather gruesome way.

2. My sister sent my wedding album, having rescued it from the dank room it was being stored in in the UK.

3. My father finally sent my mothers hand written recipe books, which go back to the turn of the last century with recipes having been written in by my Great Aunt Ruby and my Great Great grandmother. (Faggots wrapped in caul anyone?)

4. My sister, dad and sister sent flowers.

5. Homer took me shopping, and didn't complain when we went to more than one shop, and made me spend money on myself.

6. My birthday tea was fast food, followed by eclairs. I get to do that once a year. The extra salt has put three kilos of water on me over night so an extra diuretic needed this morning, but its only once a year!

7. I gave myself a designer sofa makeover...sad but true, new cushions and a throw rug.

I spent the day lounging on my newly dressed sofa saying "peel me a grape". (Which no-one did). I spent the evening telling the children to sit on the floor so they didn't disprupt my cushions. (Which they ignored). I did make them have a bath before they sat on it so they didn't get muddy footprints on it, that won't last.

A new sport

2009-02-24T20:58:00.002+10:00

Number four has taken up AFL (Aussie rules football). I've always called the sport "Aussie no rules", as to the uneducated spectator, it resembles an all-in fight that an oval ball pops out of occasionally.

There's lots of running about, both into and over the opposition, with fists and boots flying in profusion. There's blood and sweat but never tears.

Well who knew? There's rules! Number four has been three times and has been sent off twice. The coach is very impressed. Apparently no child has managed to knock over the one #4 took on for the past three seasons, and #4 did it twice, and that was just in training.

The boys are grouped by age but no-one, except the new boy, is ever put against this infant behemoth. He is the height and weight of some-one at least five years older. His parents have his birth certificate laminated to produce as and when needed. #4 was told to brace whilst the baby ogre tried to push him over, so he did. Baby ogre was sweating and turning red ( not attractive over a green skin), but #4 budged not an inch. Right says the coach, swap sides. #4 pushes the baby ogre over. Baby ogre bursts into tears. (Another Christmas card list we're off, it all saves me money in the long run.)

I huddled quietly at the side lines pretending the mighty midget with the psychopathic outlook was not mine.

Career choices #2

2009-02-21T11:07:00.004+10:00

My hairdresser has become a mobile hairdresser. This is because, like me, she has a tendency to say what she thinks. When she was going through hairdressing school they forgot to remove her smile, meaning that she can laugh at a joke instead doing that "what is the smell under my nose" look that most hairdressers adopt when faced with my hair.

When she asked me about my hair care routine the first time I saw her I looked blankly at her and said, "Oh, you mean if its wet I open the car windows on the way to work?" She only looked vaguely surprised and cut my hair into a style that blow dries itself if I open the car windows!!! How good is that!

As a consequenxce every time she "moves on" to a new salon I move on with her, and now she's become a mobile hairdresser she came to my house for the first time. (I just hope she never moves too far from where I live, I'll have to move). She paid me one of the best compliments anyone has ever paid me... she said " Oh it was such a relief to be coming to your house, I felt so relaxed when I got here."

Any way, she's smearing orange goop on my hair and #3 says "What are you doing?"

Hd. "Dying your mums hair"

#3: "Why?"

HD "To hide the grey hair."

#3 : "Oh" small silence " Do you like doing that?" (Slightly puzzled tone in his voice).

HD "Yes, why, do you want to be a hairdresser?"

#3 ; "NOOOOOOOO"

HD " But all the girls would like you, you'd see all the pretty ones."

#3 : Giving a small shiver "But you'd have to touch them, and their hair, YUK!"

#3 turns huffily back to his war game on the computer, touch girls, the very idea!

Career Advice

2009-02-10T18:38:00.002+10:00

Bright eyed and bushy tailed, all those years ago, I went to my careers adviser,

CA: So Eve, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Me: I'd like a job where I fly around the world and get paid to eat cheese.

CA: Ha ha ha

Me: Oh, I'll think of something else then.

Many years later as I examine another rash on an unmentionable part of the body, accompanied by a less than interesting smell the conversation comes back to me. (Maybe the smell coming from the patient is reminding me of cheese?) I come home and there on the food channel is a man telling me how he gets paid to fly around the world and eat cheese. "B#####d" I think, "you took my job."

Birthday tea...

2009-02-09T18:05:00.002+10:00

Number four was nine yesterday. (That makes him Aquarius, Aquarians march to a different drummer than the rest of us, sometimes its not even drums....)

As a special treat my children have always been able to pick their favorite meal for birthday tea. Now as I am an evil mother and refuse to go anywhere near MacD's, Hungry Jacks, or any other fast food outlet I usually get let of lightly in the birthday tea department. All most of them ever want is a fast food meal, result all round. They get a special treat and I get an easy meal to "prepare"( as well as fast food which I usually avoid.)

What did #4 have for birsday tea yesterday? Fish fingers cooked in the microwave with garlic bread, followed by chocolate mud cake with extra chocolate bits in. We had to make the chocolate cake together. #3 is my usual chocolate monster so this was a surprise but as it was a Sunday I kept my end of the bargain and made a chocolate mud cake with chocolate icing and chocolate chips in it. We then all gamely sat down to garlic bread and fish finger sandwiches with chocolate mud cake to follow. Yumm.

The only other time I haven't got away with fast food was chockit strawfairies for #3. (That was strawberries dipped in melted chocolate and left to set.)

Still raining...

2009-02-07T21:53:00.003+10:00

Doctor Foster
Went to Gloucester
In a shower of rain.
He stepped in a puddle
Right up to his middle
And never went there again

Rain is weighing heavily on my mind, and the garden. We've had over twelve inches in the last twenty four hours, and the twenty-four hours before that, and etc. etc. etc. We've had so much rain that the chickens are considering getting trench foot, and I've had to raise their roosting pole to keep their little toes dry.

Hence the "themed" nursery rhyme with the picture of Edward I (Longshanks), the alleged inspiration for the rhyme. He apparently fell off his horse in Gloucester, into a puddle. He was probably on his way to quell some rebellious Celts in Wales. He was so embarrassed that he refused to go there again.....if only the Welsh had known, all they had to do was get him muddy and he'd go away. (I don't know why Edward longshanks became "Dr Foster", so there's probably another explanation for the rhyme, but I quite like this one.)

Now you tell me.....

2009-02-01T09:47:00.003+10:00

If you feel down and you put on a tiara or a cute sparkly headband it like totally brightens up your day" - Paris Hilton

My sister found that quote. So, all you slightly older, slightly plumper and a lot poorer girls out there don't you feel better now Paris has revealed the secret of conquering depression?

As my sister's small child is in the middle of a snot fest cold we discussed whether dried snotty bits on every item of clothing she posseses counts as "sparkly" for these purposes. We also covered the wisdom of scraping your hair back off your face with a head-band when you have only had three hours sleep in the last seventy-two and need to go to the shops before hiding behind three inches of caulking (sorry, make-up). Would that scare small children? and would the stares from other shoppers "like totally brighten" her day?

Rain forest

2009-01-31T09:18:00.004+10:00

There's a reason it's called the rainforest. In June and July it's not always obvious but we're in the middle of the wet right now. Unlike every-where else in the world where you tell the seasons by the temperature and day length here we define them as the dry (hot and dry) and the wet (even hotter and wet). I was going to take some pictures of my coffee beans today but it has been raining, very hard, for three days now.

Usually there are hills rising on my back door, today there are clouds. Humidity is about one hundred percent. It seems unfair when parts of Australia are in the middle of a drought and bushfires that others would be flooded. The "rain days" have made me "stop and smell the coffee" so to speak and I have taken a moment to count my blessings.

I sit gazing out of my window and feel like I am wrapped in clouds, similar to a misty day in chillier climates. Shortly I shall go out in the rain (which is of course warm) and empty out any containers I find to stop the mozzies breeding and I will be thankful that I have the rain, and it is warm and it is falling, not grumpy because I am wet.

Number one has a theory...

2009-01-27T21:01:00.002+10:00

#1: Mum, I think your car needs servicing.

I am surprised by this comment. I've picked him up from work at the usual time and the traffic is surprisingly light. We are making better time than usual. All systems, as far as I can see, are go.

Me: Why do you say that?

#1: We...ell, we're making very good time. The traffic is really moving well tonight.

Me: Yes, I thought so too, why do you think the car needs servicing, and why do you look so worried?

#1: You haven't sworn at any-one yet.

Me: Well, no, no-one has cut me up yet, or stopped at a green light, or changed lanes without indicating, or stopped for no reason. I'm not even being tailgated.

#1: There you go then.

Me: ?

#1: The a###hole attractor chip on the car must be broken. The car needs servicing,

Excuses, excuses...

2009-01-25T12:30:00.002+10:00

I've been a bit slack lately on the blogging front. There are two possible explanations for this, first that my life has hit an even keel leaving me nothing to blog about, or second that I have been too exhausted with all the "excitement" to blog.

Unfortunately for me the second explanation is correct.

My new job brought levels of discomfort and stress that I had not felt since I was a teenager....all self inflicted.......but its all good now that the drugs have kicked in........

We are having ever increasing power cuts in the area at the moment. The latest two nights ago following a birds nest on the pylon. This bird's nest knocked out power to about one eighth of the country (area wise not population wise....voters don't get treated like that.) The birds nest apparently caused an ark between the old power line which was the sole provided of power to Northern Queensland and the new one which is its back up since cyclone Larry.

(Yes, we the populace did point out that maybe having the old line and the new back up lines on the same pylons was may be a "tad" NAIVE. After all if a cyclone or storm or lightning or stray road train, or, I don't know, a birds nest, caused an outage of the pylon then both lines would be affected...huh?)

Ergon energy in their wisdom ignored the screams of outrage and strung the new lines alongside the old ones, and then put up the power bills, apparently we can look forward to a twenty-five percent increase this year. After all we in FNQ don't have much of a power base numbers wise, just resources wise.We've got all the water and the South's got all the votes. ( Oh and BTW wouldn't underground lines be an option in a storm hot spot?)

Last year we lost power for a day because someone in Brisbane dug up a road. This shut down all the electricity in Queensland. You couldn't make it up, I live in Terry Pratchett's home universe.

This theory is backed by the fact that our local MP wants us all to travel armed so we can shoot crocs when we see them in rivers and storm drains. Bob, mate, I live in an urban area (relatively speaking). The only crocs we see here are more worried than we are. The guns would be used by the ute drivers trying to get right of way at the traffic lights that aren't working during the power outages. Your time in parliament would be better spent getting a power station up here.

Nature or nurture?

2009-01-11T00:43:00.003+10:00

Number four has a tendency to get overheated. He runs around all day in the sun without wasting time with hats or drinking water and then comes in as darkness falls. As the sun sets and he stops moving he suddenly develops a headache, demands all the lights be turned out and vomits copiously.

The first few times this happened as you can imagine I was straight to the hospital, thoughts of meningitis screaming through my mind. Eventually a kindly doctor suggested that maybe if we got him to drink something, maybe?

We nurse him through these turns, and try to prevent them with water and hats but they still happen occasionally.

Today number three got a headache. Number four swung swiftly into action. He got a head ache tablet (after checking with me) and took it to number three. He lay him down in the bedroom and shut the curtains, and then went and got him a glass of water.

"Try and drink this" he cooed while stroking number three's head. "You'll soon feel better."

Gently he left the room and as he closed the door he sighed, "Stupid little twit, when's he going to learn to keep his hat on." (I can't think where he heard that.)

BTW he soon got sick of the nursing thing and went and poked number three until he cried thus requiring an intervention from mummy.

The fossilised blogger....

2009-01-03T23:24:00.003+10:00

I am officially ancient. My oldest child is eighteen, I can't believe it. That means I was about twelve when I had him!!!!

I have done a quick mental retrospective on his life and have decided that time flies when you're raising monsters. I remember him being born, I set a new foul language record for the hospital, which wouldn't have been so bad except I worked there at the time. People kept coming to visit me and asking if some of what I'd said was true, unfortunately most of it was.

I remember him being tested for Downs syndrome as he has single palmar crease, and having an operation at only eight weeks of age. I remember looking for the "666" on his head at three in the morning. I remember his first day at school (I cried) and his last ( I cried, he was expelled). I remember the first time I caught him drinking, and his first serious girlfriend ( AKA the Troll).

I realise that he's grown up and he's still a baby. He answers me back and sulks like any teenager, but I can still make him twitch nervously with one look, and he'll never be able to lie to me.

I can't believe my baby is eighteen.

The power of advertising....

2008-12-20T21:42:00.002+10:00

There's a new ad on the radio. A small child is complaining that he's only getting coal for Christmas because he put bubble bath in the toilet. Guess who was in the car and tried it when we got home?

Tis the season to be merry...

2008-12-20T11:43:00.004+10:00

Or as I prefer to refer to it "The season to stay in", or the "How much for potatoes?" season.

My local supermarket has taken full advantage of the season to run out of potatoes, and up the price of the few scabby looking remnants they do stock. It annoys me because nearby farmers are ploughing potatoes in because they lost a big supermarket contract......say what??? Bring them down the range and sell them next to the road!!!!!!!

We pay for potatoes to be trucked from here to Sydney and back again. The local "farmers market" sells at prices approaching the prices in the supermarket to tourists enamoured of how quaint it is. Don't the tourists realise there is nowhere up here that grows apples and so those cannot be local produce????

I read back my post and see "Tis the season to be grumpy."

It's not just the wildlife....

2008-12-16T20:47:00.005+10:00

Day two : Man versus banana leaf. That's right man hospitalised after coming off second best to a banana leaf. (To be fair it was a deep cut and it got infected.) He's in the bed next to the guy with the spider bite....Oh and a few people were hospitalised over the weekend from irukandji (jelly fish) stings.

Tell me again about living in paradise.

My first day....

2008-12-15T21:31:00.004+10:00

My first day in my new job, and very exciting it was too. I have got a lot to learn to catch up but I am excited by the prospect.

I have come to the conclusion that I live in the right part of the world to get health care for #4. The doctors are trained in just the right sort of trauma. In the first group I saw today there was,

1. Man on Motorbike V man on Motorbike. (Man A 2: Man B 1) They'd hit each other. In my line of work bike v car is common but bike v bike?

2. Man V bull. (Bull 1: Man 0)

3. Woman V Tree. (Tree 1 : woman 0)

3. Man on bike V pig. ( Pig 1 : man 0) The pig was last seen running off into the bush. Apparently the pig is known in the area for jumping out at traffic, and this time it got some-one. They move problem crocs to new rivers, I'm not sure what they do with problem pigs. ( For the uninitiated when I say pig think huge wild boar type thing that only an Aussie would call a pig. Definitely not Pinky and Perky.)

A challenge

2008-12-11T19:27:00.005+10:00

Number one is finally going to get an apprenticeship. I kept asking him when he was getting an apprenticeship and he kept muttering and humphing, so I asked his boss.

"When are you giving him an apprenticeship?"

"We offered him one, he just has to say yes."

"?" accompanied by meaningful look at #1.

Shuffling of boots.

His first challenge now he's an apprentice was to make his own toolbox. This resulted in a heap of smashed metal and a hinge he can 'use again'.

His boss said he can make a barbecue for the works do of Friday night as well. This upset him as he was worried it would mean there would be no barbecue and he would get very hungry. His boss showed an understanding of the teenage boys mind by asking him to complete this task. After an evenings worry about the design, and whether his welds would hold, and cool in time. After an evening trying out reasons for other people to make the said barbecue he set off to work this morning and has returned, barbecue built.

"it's got wheels"

"Do they move?"

"yes, in different directions, but they move"

I hope to get a photo of said barbecue tomorrow.

Madge the trainer

2008-12-08T17:12:00.002+10:00

We got a new personal trainer at the gym today. Hannah retired with heat stroke back to the UK. (Here's a woman who went for a run at midday in Cairns...of course she got heat stroke....sheesh, they had to medevac her to the airport.)

The new one's called Madonna, she really is. She was probably born when Madonna first made it big, which makes me feel old. I remember some friends going to see the real Madonna at the Hacienda when I was a student in Manchester, she was still pudgy and wore a lot of layers and lace and stuff. I never really got all that.(They said she was c@@p, and couldn't sing a note. Like a virgin was going to be a one hit wonder, shows what they knew).

My Madge takes all the gym stuff just as seriously as her namesake though. I cannot convince her that I don't use my triceps for anything, she keeps coming up with exercises to stop bingo wings. She has me doing some weird exercises on a step to get as I term them Buns of steel. (Don't laugh, every-one in the gym already did when I told Homer I was doing the "buns of steel" exercise, I didn't know they were listening until I heard the snickering).

I'll give her points for optimism though. She says that soon I'll be running. "What is this strange thing of which you speak?" I ask, "run-ning?" She explains to me that it is something that is faster than walking. "Ahh" I say, "You mean riding, riding in car."

(I know that as long as I am going faster than at least one other person I will survive the crocodile/ lion/ snake/ hippo attack. The wild beast will get them and I will get away.)

Deadliest catch

2008-12-06T09:14:00.004+10:00

I'm quite a fan of the deadliest catch TV show, it's probably the swearing that I like , and also I'm a big fan of the sea and we only have pretend sea here (warm with no waves).

I thought I'd treat myself to a T-shirt. Not the sort of thing I'd normally do but what the heck. My choices were,

Northwestern...big fan of the Hansen brothers but never trust a man with a centre parting so that was out.

Wizard....is it me or is there some sort of dodgy deal going on there?

Time Bandit....reminds me far too much of all my boys, particularly #4, also there's a mullet involved.

That leaves the Cornelia Marie. Again shades of my boys, and I notice Cap'n Phil is smoking again (and I'm not). Not to be discounted is the fact that their website posted overseas but Time Bandits didn't.

I don't count the Early Dawn. There's a certain amount of smugness there that I'm not fond of, or earnestness, I'm not sure which.

Anyroad my T-shirt arrived. Now I'm not a small girl, not at all. I was very popular in my youth and I didn't need Pammy's surgery to get there, but foolishly and at the risk of annoying my American friends I assumed a large T-shirt would be , well, large. Mmmm the t-shirt rather emphasises my assets, but I'm a grumpy old woman in no make-up, so that means I now have a very nice gardening t-shirt that reads "F------/////vvvv Coooooooornelia Marrrrrrrieeeeeee". Next time I'll get the mug.

BTW. #4 will NOT be getting a chainsaw for christmas. Ha ha very funny. I'm still untangling the chickens from the rope and the big vinyl hand put them off laying for a week, imagine the damage he could do with a chain saw.

A potato?

2008-12-05T23:23:00.002+10:00

Number four has been threatened (many times) with many punishments. He shrugs these threats off with a nonchalance (yes, nonchalance from an eight year old) that is amazing. I only wish I had his sang froid, his coolness, his ability to completely ignore the opinions of all who surround him when they don't match his own.

I chipped the facade today though.

"If you don't behave Father Christmas will leave you a potato."

"So?"

"?"

"He can put the potato on top of my other presents, my motorbike, chainsaw, and snake." (Yes, he still has that ideal gift list.)

"No, you get the potato instead of your other presents."

"?"

"and you don't get to steal #3's presents."

"Nooooooooo. I'll be good, I promise, I'll be good allll the rest of today."

Well it's a start.

More good news.....

2008-12-03T21:25:00.004+10:00

Woo hoo I got a new job.

I don't have to work late nights any more, or week-ends and I get more money, woo hoo. I am especially pleased as the shop was involved in an armed robbery last week so I'm well out of it.

My boss is less pleased, I went and told him some-one would be ringing him for a reference. "Huh, thanks for telling me!"

Two hours later I got an e-mail saying that further to our conversation asking for a reference he considered that my notice, last shift to be 10th December (and don't let the door hit you on the butt.......)

Next day my new boss rungs and says my reference isn't all that awesome....after a bit of to and froing she offered me the job. Woo hoo but thanks for nothing old boss.

My present boss then has the gall to not speak to me for five days and then demand my resignation, as I hadn't offered it. I pointed out to him that he'd already told me when my last shift was. All went quiet and then today he asks me to work on a few days to help out.

Ok so what would you do?

Air conditioning

2008-12-01T15:39:00.003+10:00

I'm being a bit slack on here as there have been momentous happenings.

We got air conditioning in the living room. I've done seven years here with no good air conditioning and now I have it. I ran in from work just as the men finished fixing it up on Saturday. I turned it straight on. on super-freeze-me and stood with the air blowing my hair back like some sort of Tyra wannabe (only a plump old one...make me a super-grumpy-old-bag any one?).

The electrician commented that the air conditioner was big enough to blow out the far wall of the house, I don't care. The air conditioner installer commented that we should warn the neighbours that the hot air from the outside unit stands a chance of blistering the paint work on their house, I don't care. He also commented that the chickens were likely to be part roasted by the same air as the unit is over their pen, I shall have to install a pool for them with small beach umbrellas.

I showed the machine my left cheek (face) and my right cheek, and lifted my skirt and showed it my other cheeks (after the workmen left). The children were very upset by this but I am old and have air conditioning and I don't care. Of course at this point the workmen returned for the tools that #4 had appropriated, to the sight of me showing my bum to the air conditioner. Cheeks reddened (all four) I returned the bemused gentleman his spanner and screwdriver. We both carefully didn't mention the position he had found me in, that is bent over with my skirt over my head.

Approximately thirty minutes after the air conditioner started working the power went off, and stayed off for three hours. That's the third power outage this week, and I can only attribute that to the ever increasing number of houses in our suburb, all with air conditioners going full blast.

Good news day...

2008-11-26T21:25:00.006+10:00

I was dead chuffed to get this off Mud, not least because she helpfully gave directions on how to upload it.

I'd mainly like to thank #4 for his contribution to the award.

Today, in a moment of sheer terror, I was informed that the green wire is the saftey wire to stop you getting electrocuted......oh and you mustn't play with the wires in the big green box at the end of the street. We have had a long conversation about not playing with any wires and removed the remains of his electric toothbrush from the bedroom.

BTW 36C and 88% humidity is very uncomfortable. It feels like being in a tepid shower with a towel wrapped around your face. It also poaches eggs inside the shells if you don't collect them from the hen house pretty quick smart.

Things you can do with rope and a vinyl hand.

2008-11-25T19:55:00.007+10:00

1. When mum's at the gym you can tie the garage door shut, from the inside. When she gets home she goes ape at you and wakes the whole street up.

2. When you get the rope out of the (now)locked garage you can tie the gate to the back garden shut, while mum is moving the bin down the drive. (Mum still doesn't know how I got in the garage.)

3. You can tie your brothers bike to the back gate so when mum's trying to climb over the gate she falls on it.

4. You can tie the back door shut by tying the handle to mummy and daddy's bedroom door. (Remember to leave the front door on the latch for a quick getaway.)

5. When mum puts you in the car because you ARE D***N WELL GOING TO SCHOOL you can wave the orange vinyl hand at the back window until mum screams at you again. (Lucky the policeman in the car behind just waved back aye?)

6. The next day you can get the vinyl hand out of the bin and smuggle it into school. Stand at the back of assembly and wave at your mates who are doing a recital on stage until your teacher spots you.

UPDATE: I was woken by loud boinging noises. On exploring I find large orange rubber hand tied to tree and being used as a target. Eggs break on contact with the ground or hand or bounce, leaving eggy stains, sometimes on the neighbours fence. Lemons always bounce,hard, and next doors dog has taken cover in their garage. Note to all you "better" mothers out there, I have put the hand and the rope in the bin, again, and he hasn't found his padlock again.

I feel unable to relate some of the other rope incidents until I'm feeling better and the other parents have stopped talking to me gain. (Really it's better when they're talking about me, not to me, there's a lot less pressure and unwanted advice.)

the rains here...

2008-11-21T09:14:00.003+10:00

We cry and beg for rain and then it arrives, no gentle showers warning us this time. One meteorological site says it got 500mm in ten minutes. (I think that's a flash flood anywhere else, here it's the wet.) Sort of like the powers that be suddenly remembering they forgot to give us October's rain and throwing it all out of a bucket at us. The joy of the smell of wet earth is amazing though, and the crackle as the soil absorbs the water after the long drys spell. The grass has nearly turned green again from that one rain shower.

Of course now we get to complain about the humidity as all the rain sits round in the air undecided whether to fall or rise ( see picture).

Of course we lost power, this time for an hour or two only, and the the phone lines got wet so the phones stopped working. (This isn't a third world country, just a rather neglected corner of somewhere....we hope to have solar power soon, as soon as we can save the exorbitant amount of money the companies charge to set it up.)

This week in the garden

2008-11-17T14:17:00.002+10:00

The eggplants are fruiting like mad so now I have to find a heap of recipes to use them up. Tonight its eggplant and chick pea curry, cheap and nutritious and most of the veggies are from the garden which is a bonus. There's gonna be a lot more of them over the next few weeks judging by the number of flowers on the plants.
We've planted a banana tree as well so that should be giving us fruit in a few months time (about four I think) as long as we give the plant plenty of food and water. It's supposed to be the wet season here, and the daily temps are well over 30C every day and humidity is around 100% but no rain. I'm going to buy a water tank to save the rain so we can water the veggies with that water when it goes dry again, but first it has to rain.

A days work...

2008-11-15T19:25:00.004+10:00

We cleaned out the garage.

Not big news, except for the fact that it is a double garage that we can just about, with a following wind, and the correct car selection, fit one car in.

The day we moved into our new house (five years ago) was the day that Homer decided to get ill, severely ill, with kidney stones. On that memorable day I packed up an entire household of belongings, including taking down five beds, and transferred them into a panel van. Homer drove the van to the new house, moaning and vomiting all the way, while I encouraged him with comments such as " You're not ill, " and "Shut Up" and "Typical, you'll do anything to get out of work."

At the other end I unpacked the van into the garage, Homer drove back to the old house, and I repeated the process. All this whilst caring for four children aged between 12 and 3.

I then unpacked the garage, including setting up five beds, the first of which Homer promptly collapsed into. I would have called an ambulance, if I could have mustered up even a small iota of caring. All this leads to a round about way of telling you that the garage is still full of the things I didn't unpack on that memorable day five years ago.

We found,

1. My first aid box. Having #4 I had in fact replaced most of the contents, but I was quite pleased to find three pairs of scissors that I had hidden in there from #4 along with my eyebrow tweezers and some sticky tape that has lost all its sticky.

2. A fossilized pie, really, I don't know why it hadn't gone off or mouldy but I'm using it as a doorstop as it is now solid rock. (Maybe it was a McDonald's pie for those who watched the "smoking fry" section of supersize me.)

3. The cremated remains of the air conditioner from the bedroom that 4 set on fire, along with the ceiling fan (with head shaped dent from 3) and the light fitting from the same room.

4. The dining table, I knew we had one.

5. Three car loads of junk.

6. My pushbike, now I'll have to start using it again. I really thought I'd sold it, d**n, oh and a stationary exercise back, double d**n.

7. Another three car loads full of junk. (If we didn't miss it for five years we don't need it.)

8. Several smaller pushbikes.

9. At least three old computers, or at least various parts of computers that must be enough to make three new computers.

10. Several boxes of fairy lights. Actually if you live in a small town and need Christmas lights we probably have enough to loan you some, and still do our house. Homer is a big fan of fairy lights, and of buying them; apparently he is less of a fan of putting them away in a manner which enables us to find them and use them again the following year.

I still can't get my car in the garage, but we don't need a sherpa to reach the far side now.

Was the game good?

2008-11-12T22:16:00.005+10:00

I took #4 to the basketball tonight. He really enjoys the night out, the atmosphere, the screaming and shouting....

Tonight

1. He needed hot fries, (needed mind you), which he got as I was feeling generous. I caved too easily and ended up eating them myself when he changed his mind. No hardship you think? He had coated them in tomato sauce, I threw them in the bin.

2. He used his pocket money to buy a big blow up hand. When he blew it up it poked the man in front of us in the back of the head. Woops, he pulled it up out of the fellows head and smacked the man who sits on the other side of us in the face. The smell of the vinyl on top of the smell of the tomato ketchup was beginning to make me feel sick.

3. He wanted a drink so I gave him a can of ginger beer. He never (NEVER) gets coke. The man next to him felt sorry for him and gave him his coke. (Yes this is the man that just got poked up the nose by a two foot orange vinyl finger). I got a head-ache. This man should know better, he has sat next to us for four years.

4. The half-time entertainment was really bad, but really bad. The cheer leading squad was pretty good, but they weren't dancing to the tune the marching band was trying to play. (Actually each member of the band was playing a different tune at a different speed, one of the tunes might have been the one the cheerleaders were dancing to, I'll never know.) My head ache was getting worse.

5. Number four was hungry after all. He bought a bag of potato chips. He put them on the seat and then something exciting happened. He jumped up in the air and landed on them. They burst.

The game? We lost.

So, I paid good money to end up feeling nauseous, with a head-ache and a small child that probably isn't going to sleep for three days. The car smells of new vinyl, ginger beer and tomato ketchup and is full of potato chip crumbs.

Do it again next week? You betcha.

P.S. No sign of the rope. I don't want to ask where it is in case he tells me, and I don't like the answer.

Driving in far North Queensland

2008-11-09T00:59:00.010+10:00

For those planning a holiday in Far North Queensland I thought I better post some road rules. The rules for driving here are very simple, but very different from anywhere else on the planet. You might think drivers where you live are bad, but we here in FNQ can give you a run for your money.

The rules are,

1. The biggest vehicle has right of way, always. If you have the biggest vehicle just get in a go where you want. Do not stop at traffic lights, roundabouts or to let old ladies cross the road, just go from A to B at whatever speed you choose.

2. The smaller vehicles must try and get in front of the biggest vehicles, if they're lucky they will do this with only minimal paint swapping activities.

3. Never look in your rear view or wing mirrors. The people behind you are behind you, why do you care where they are? Wing mirrors are parking aids in much the same way that a cat's whiskers operate (touch) and the rear view mirror is for putting on make up and checking for stray bits of food in your teeth.

4. Hang something shiny off the rear view mirror. In our sunny climate crystals work really well. If by chance some foreigner glances in their rear view mirror you stand a good chance of blinding them leading to less damn foreigners that don't know the road rules being on the road.

5. In other parts of the world the three second rule refers to the gap you leave between you and the vehicle in front. In FNQ we have the one second rule. This is the gap that you pull into when changing lanes (don't indicate). If there is any chance of leaving a gap larger than one second between you and the car in front you must accelerate and catch the car in front.(A simple way to test this is to see if you can see the whites of the driver in front's eyes in their rear view mirror. You should be able to at all times.)

6. You can pull straight out into a moving lane of traffic if you indicate (not necessarily in the direction you wish to go, just indicate.)

7. Never indicate unless you are going to leave the indicator on for at least six miles.

8. The younger you are the faster you must go. If you are under twenty at no time should you be travelling at less than thirty mph above the speed limit.

9. If you are towing a caravan, house or bridge (we get a lot of the last two) then always travel between eight and nine in the morning and between two-thirty and five thirty in the afternoon. (The video below is a house Homer caught crossing onto a main road at 6.30 am in the morning, just starting its journey to the town centre in time for the rush hour, you can just see the house on the left. It was taken with mobile phone at 6:30am so cut him a break on the quality.)

10. Make sure your headlights are adjusted to shine directly into the car in front's rear mirror. It is preferable to drive at all times on full beam, with fog lamps. (I know we don't get fog up here but you must swallow your pride and have them on, all the time.)

(P.S. We have roundabouts up here, but don't be fooled, we don't use them the same way as the rest of the world. See rule 1 and rules 6 and 7.)

More children?

2008-11-08T08:06:00.003+10:00

People keep asking me if I'm having any more children. I don't know if they're asking from a "Gosh, you're a good mother, have some more." standpoint, or from a "J****** ******t, why doesn't some one stop this family breeding." point of view.

I think it depends on who's asking. People who've only met number three think I should have more. People who've met number four want to immediately fix both myself and my husband to stop that ever happening again.

My OBGYN doctor tied my tubes twice and cut them after he had told me four times I couldn't POSSIBLY have any more children and out popped #4. Even then he told me to come back if my period was even one nanosecond late.

The school, having had all of them to deal with, have commented that they are all "different" (but in a good way, they add quickly) and have asked if there are any more at home (nervous laughter). I think the vice principal was seriously contemplating early retirement when he saw me with a toddler the other week, but he was reassured when I told him the said child belonged to a friend, it wasn't mine.

Be careful what you ask for....

2008-11-06T20:12:00.003+10:00

We make candles, palm wax and soy candles, as a hobby at home. They're actually pretty cool. Don't worry I'm not trying to get you to buy them but you need to know that before we go any further.

Homer went to the DIY store today to get some plastic drain pipe stuff ( mmm, that was probably not the technical description.) He rooted about (that means had a grope about), on second thoughts he "looked" in a big old bin full of off cuts they have out the back. ("Rooted about" and "groped" mean so many different things depending on the country you are in, but I digress.)

"So what you after mate?"

"Oh, I need about a meter of this stuff here," Homer emerged red-faced from the bin waving his trophy. "Can you cut it into about four pieces?"

"Sure, hand it over."

"Oh, have you got end caps that will fit over the ends? Really tightly. They've got to be tight."

"Sure mate, they're over there." The helpful assistant pointed to the plumbing area. "The cans of diesel and the fertiliser are out the back."

"? How did you know I needed ammonia for the sensitive weeds?'

The asssistant starts edging slowly towards the phone whilst keeping an eye on Homer. Light dawns, "Oh, no, I um.......oh dear. Just the pipe today please, and these um ends. I'm making candles."

The assistant looks at the large and very rough looking lump of flesh that is my husband and says " Candles?" (pull the other one.)

Homer paid and left. We're waiting to see if a van with darkened windows parks outside in the street. If it does we might give #4 his padlock back.

A lady came into the shop today. She says it shocking and shouldn't be allowed. One of the children at her son's school padlocked the library doors shut yesterday, whilst her son was inside. It's about time they did something. I remained quiet, but thought to myself that I better find out what he did with the rope.

The padlock.....

2008-11-05T22:42:00.003+10:00

Ring Ring

"Good afternoon XXXXX chemist, can I help you?"

"Hello, YYYYY school here, is #4's mother there?" (the voice sounded like some-one on the edge)

My blood froze, in a split second my viable responses went through my mind,
1. Hang up.
2. Make static noises and hang up.
3. Say " No speaky Ingliss, pliz to call again."
4. Say #4's mother is out of the shop.

I paused too long, "That's you isn't it?" ( She definitely sounded annoyed, and a little hysterical. One part of my brain is saying that if she knows my voice well enough to recognise it on the phone then she knows #4, so WTF has he done?) "Your husband says he can't come, that is you isn't it?"

"B*****d."

"Pardon?"

"I said, yes I'm #4's mum, can I help you?" ( Please say no, please say no.)

"Did you know he brought a padlock to school today?"

This time I managed to just think "b****d" about Homer, he knows we have to search #4s school bag.

"Er, um, no I didn't actually."

"He padlocked the library doors shut."

"??" I really have no answer for that.

"He has reading after lunch and he didn't want to do it, so he padlocked the doors shut."

"Um, did he have the key with him?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The chess club are very cross, they were still inside."

(Can't see that bothering #4 really.)

"I'm terribly sorry, I'll make sure he doesn't bring it again."

"Yes, quite, could you come and get him please, we've had enough for today."

Health advice in action

2008-11-05T09:07:00.007+10:00

My last post brought a flurry of agreement and anecdotes from health care colleagues, mainly by email. Some of these stories did show a certain lack of understanding on the part of other health professionals.....but as my DCS says " They probably pretend to be stupid and unhelpful to stop me coming back and asking for more help that will be difficult to provide."

I shall now share my favorite tale, with no names because if anyone reads the blog this came from it will be clear who they are talking about, perhaps too clear, and we have to maintain professional standards in front of our clients. (At least until they can't hear us laugh/scream/cry/ swear in the tea room.)

The patient attended her doctor and was told she had temporal arteritis, she didn't know what this was. In lieu of asking she went for an in depth consult with an elderly friend over a cup of tea and a biscuit. The elderly friend told her the doctor had probably meant temporary arthritis. (He probably hadn't.) This conversation was carried out at a very loud volume, both ladies are deaf. The neighbours could probably hear the conversation, and it would not have surprised me if some-one in the street had shouted some helpful advice through the window on their way past. ( Which if you read the previous post you now know both ladies would have had to follow.)

The doctor had prescribed massive doses of steroids for the patient (correct), which the pharmacist had explained had to be taken in a reducing course. This sounded difficult. The tablets also had to be taken in the morning, all ten of them, to her and her friend this sounded wrong as well.

Between them they worked out,

1. Doctor had meant to say temporary arthritis.
2. Doctor had written the wrong dose on the prescription, they knew steroids worked for arthritis, but Betsy-down-the-road takes a smaller dose every day so she'll take that dose.... he must have meant one a day for ten days not ten a day...that young girl down the chemists was clearly an idiot.
3. The doctor had not prescribed any pain killers, which was clearly wrong. The friend gave her some of her pain-killers until the patient could see the doctor and "put him right" about his mistake.
4. The friend agreed to ring her daughter and ask her to ask her friend (who once did a one day course in aromatherapy), what she would suggest for temporary arthritis.
5. They agreed not to tell their other friends, especially Betsy-down-the road, that the arthritis was temporary as that doesn't sound serious enough. Rather she would tell Betsy-down-the-road that she had been prescribed the massive dose of steroids because her arthritis was worse than Betsy's, but she would take the smaller dose.

This tale was received as a tale about the terrible service that the doctor and pharmacist gave her. Her temporary arthritis has proved to be anything but temporary and the pills the doctor gave her are not working.

Because the steroids kept her awake (she took them at night as she has too many other pills to take in the morning) she stopped taking them. She admits she didn't take the number the doctor and pharmacist told her to, because they were wrong. Yes, they did make her head-aches a little better, but they kept her awake and might make her fat. She is still taking her friend's pain-killers, but they aren't working, she'll stick with them because they worked for her friend. She won't go back to the doctor because he is an idiot and the chemist should have spotted that. She will not be going back to either, but is telling EVERYONE how bad they were.

(Quick summary: She's taking drugs she wasn't prescribed for a condition she hasn't got, they're not working, and it's the doctor's fault.)

On a brighter note the patient is getting some stuff off the Internet that worked for Betsy-down-the-road's cousin's chest, it's coming all the way from China so it must be good. She got her brothers grand-daughter's boyfriend to order it from the name she wrote down when Betsy told her it over the phone. It's called "Vigara", no definitely "Vigara", she wrote it down when Betsy told her. (You got me, I added the drug name, but the rest is true.)

Research into health advice....

2008-11-03T12:26:00.002+10:00

After years of research into the subject I can reveal where people take their health advice from, and which advice they trust more. In reverse order, that's least important perceived source first.

1. Any health care professional that spends more than half an hour in discussion with the patient with in depth history taking and careful questioning.

2. A reputable Internet site or other scientific reference source.

3. An advertisement ripped out of a magazine, preferably containing the words "miracle", "amazing" and "new." If there is a picture of a B-list celebrity on the advertisement that is better still.

4. A web-site containing the words "amazing", "new" or "miracle". The site gets more kudos still if it refers to lost Amazonian tribesmen or ancient eastern wisdom.

5. The recommendation of a friend or relative, unless they are a health professional. In that case the advice falls to position 1.

6. The recommendation of a vague friend or relative, e.g. your sister's son-in-law's mother's uncle's brother's friend from high schools sister.

7. A piece of paper with the name of the product written on it, usually incorrectly spelled. The holder of the paper will maintain that the name is spelled correctly, even when they can't remember where they heard the name, or who told them the name.

8. Something overheard on a bus or train, or possibly in the hairdressers.

So the leading source of health advice that people listen to is an overheard conversation between complete strangers. This advice will override anything any health professional ever tells them.

A lighter moment

2008-11-01T23:56:00.003+10:00

Each week I try to take number 4 to the Bunnings kids craft each Saturday or Sunday morning. It's brilliant. It's free and they get to make really cool stuff. He's made a tool box, a peg board, a mosaic wall plaque, loads of stuff, and he loves it. No normal parent could provide the materials to make everything he's made there.

This week when he had finished he was crouched down washing his hands in the provided bucket of water. I glanced down and thought, " That's two waist bands under those jeans."

"Number four, do you have two pairs of boxers on?"

"No, I wear jockses."

"Do you have two pairs of jockses on?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"There was a hole in one pair so I put another pair over the top." (Doh! mum, how thick are you?)

He returned to washing his hands whilst parents fell about in fits of giggles. We then went and spent his saved pocket money. He bought ten yards of nylon rope and a super secure padlock. I don't know what for, and I probably don't want to, but I will probably find out fairly soon.

A surprise delivery..

2008-10-25T17:04:00.005+10:00

"Do you think the cats pregnant?"

"Either that or it's got the biggest worm in history."

"How longs a cats gestation anyway?"

"Dunno."

However long it is it just ended. I just found the cat with attitude with four very new kittens under number four's bed. This may not be the best place to raise your babies, what with the hidden power tools and smelly socks, so I've moved her to #2's bedroom. She is lurking protective of her brood under the chest of drawers.

Number three keeps going and staring at the chest of drawers and I keep telling him to leave the cat alone. I'm worried that she will make off with the kittens and hide them some where I can't find them.

I immediately rang the vet to make an appointment to get her fixed, as I have been meaning to do for about six months. Allowing a cat to breed in oz is a hanging offence. The veterinary assistant (snotty fifteen year old on work experience) sniffed loudly and told me I had to wait at least six weeks to get her fixed.

"Do you know how irresponsible it is to allow a cat to breed?" she sniffs again.

"Yes, that's why I'm ringing to make the appointment."

"Bit late now." Louder sniff from her.

"Have you got a cold?" I ask

"No, why?"

"Never mind, I'll make the appointment elsewhere."

Growing a pomegranate

2008-10-25T10:20:00.005+10:00

I read that pomegranates would grow in my climate. I bought a pomegranate tree. It died. I bought another one. The first one reappeared. When it said in the books "dies back" it wasn't kidding. It disappeared. For three years I watched the area where the pomegranate was supposed to grow. Each year a few feeble leaves appeared and disappeared, leaving a dead twig like object poking forlornly from the ground.

I complained to Homer that my pomegranate wasn't doing anything and realised he had pulled the second plant up. It looked like a dead twig and acted like a dead twig, he assumed it was a dead twig. I went back to watching my original dead twig.

This year the dead twig has flowered. Pomegranate flowers are supposed to be carnation-like and spectacular, well it's neither of those. It stayed in the bud stage for a long long time but finally it has opened. I won't get a pomegranate from it as I think there should be male and female flowers, and this is it in flower terms, but it has made me smile. Gardening needs patience apparently, even in the tropics.

The eggplants are also in flower, it always surprises me how attractive the flowers are on some vegetables, and this is one of my favourites. Probably because of the colour.

The price of paradise

2008-10-22T17:32:00.009+10:00

The price of living in paradise is clearly illustrated by this photo. It may indeed be a fake, but then I have seen one of these spiders up close, and it was as big as my husbands hand, and these birds are very small. Click here for more on this story. Of course there's always this gem as shown on the right. From this story.

I challenged Homer on the likelihood of the spider eating the bird thing. He insists that it is very likely.

"Don't you remember?" he asks, "We saw a spider as big as your head at Milla Milla?'

"No," I say. " If, and it is a very big if, I saw a spider that big I would remember running screaming from the area, and I don't."

"Oh," he replies helpfully, " Maybe you have repressed the memory."

Can't blog...

2008-10-16T21:57:00.002+10:00

Can't blog, arms tied to sides with invisible iron bands.

I blame the personal trainer. Sorry, personal dominatrix. My last session was at 6am on Wednesday (Did you know there is a six in the morning? I'd quite forgotten about it since the children learnt to turn the cartoon network on by themselves.)

I paid, yes paid, this woman to push me just past my limits. It was a clever ploy on her part. I felt great when I left , bouncing and full of the joys of the newly energised. Of course by the time I'd worked until eight Wednesday night and then got up again this morning I couldn't move my arms from my sides. Washing my hair hurt this morning. I've heard people say that following a gym session and thought, Pshaw, or something like that. But I have sunk that low, I am so unfit that the lateral raise jobbies or whatever have left my chest muscles so sore that my arms are effectively clamped to my sides. ( I looked like some sort of muppet as I hunched about at work, typing without moving my arms.)

Homer's stomach hurts, I thank my lucky stars that she hasn't started on my abs yet. I promise faithfully to myself to do some cardio before I see her again on Monday. I hope to bargain for a less tiring session by being able to say that I have done my cardio. I'll point at Homer meaningfully and say, "But he hasn't", thereby deflecting her attention to him and allowing me to skulk about at the back of our class of two. All's fair in love and avoiding punishment in an exercise class.

Self improvement

2008-10-13T18:35:00.003+10:00

I went and did it, I went a joined a gym. It was the assessment today which I thought was great fun. I'd made Homer join with me because he's, well , very large and we did the assessment together.

I loved it and was ready to rock after half an hour. Homer was ready for someone to come and poke his lungs back up his nose with a stick. He is slightly, no actually he is a lot, more unfit than I am.

It is now six hours later and I'm feeling, I have to admit it a little stiff. I have told Homer so he can laugh at me, as I laughed at him before.

We mulched the entire garden at the week-end so we can't be that unfit! I also planted a fig tree in my jungle area and the pomegranate is flowering. We are doing quite well from the garden at the moment, eating beans, bok choy, silver beet and spinach from it. The problem is the quantities are not up there so I need to put more work in and plant more stuff.

Number four sends his love to his fans. He is at present building a racing car in the back yard from pieces of old timber and some chain he found. He was inspired by Scrap Heap Challenge. Number three disparagingly commented that there is no motor. Number four replied that the car was for going down hills, fast, very fast. Would number three like to be test pilot? Number three walked off in a huff, but now he's back and they are both building it together in the dark in the back-yard. I'm just nipping out to check that it's not my car wheels that they're using.

What's this?

2008-10-12T18:07:00.003+10:00

I have no idea what this growth on my rambutan is. Those are normal leaves growing out of it. I've posted this picture here in the hope that some-one out there does! Do I need to cut it off? leave it alone?

It looks like a part of the tree but what the?

Going on my experiences so far in this part of the world it is something that can bite you, actually my theory is that it is a form of scar tissue on the trunk, but I am unable to find anything like it elsewhere on the web, so here's hoping.

Accent trouble....again

2008-10-11T17:27:00.003+10:00

This is a long-standing Philippino customer that I have known for a while.

Me : "Here's your prescription Mrs G. Is there anything else?"

Cust: " Yes. Have you got sink?"

M; "Yes, um , why , um, do you need to wash your hands, or a drink?"

C: " I want buy sink." (She looks at me as if I've lost my marbles.)

M: "You want to buy a sink?" (Thinking to myself, oh its sad when their marbles start to go.)

C: "Yes, want buy sink. Get here before, buy more sink. You sell sink, I buy sink." (Looking at me now as if I am a bit slow.)

M: " Ah, yes. Do you usually buy the zinc tablets or the zinc powder?" (Thinking to myself that it is indeed sad that my mind has started to go.)

.

My first tropical fruit tree

2008-10-10T23:30:00.009+10:00

One of the first things we planted in our back yard when we finally moved into our house was a coconut palm. Well, what actually happened was that we were visiting a friend who has a friend who is a de-nutter.

He goes around the palm trees in the tourist areas a couple of times a year and de-nuts them. This leads to a pile of coconuts outside various peoples houses. We helped ourselves to a couple, ate a few and threw one into the garden "to grow", more in hope than expectation.

After all coconuts are seeds, right? They are, this is what we have four years later. I think our own de-nutting operation is a few years off though. I hope our tree will avoid the fate of a neighbours palm tree shown in the other picture, damaged in Cyclone Larry. The stake through the heart didn't kill the palm tree, but the council coming and cutting it down to make a display with sure slowed it down.

Strange but true...

2008-10-07T19:43:00.007+10:00

I was reading an article about the little known MI8, the signals intelligence branch of MI5 during the war. One of their luminaries, Lord Tredegar, oversaw the monitoring of carrier pigeons. Really, he monitored the flights of carrier pigeons, to prevent their illicit use by the enemy. (It was also a Lord Tredegar that led the Charge of the Light Brigade.)

In order to do this he had a squadron of Peregrine Falcons which hunted down "suspect" pigeons. (I don't know if the falcons asked for ID first.)

Lord Tredegar came up with a plan to bewilder Abwher pigeons by dropping British pigeons from aircraft over Germany. ( Yes, yes, when I read it the obvious problem sprang immediately to mind, but wait.)

The first load of pigeons were unfortunately sucked into the plane's slipstream and "defeathered". For the second attempt the pigeons were dropped inside paper bags. Really. I didn't make this up, only Terry Pratchett could come up with this as fiction.

These pigeons apparently survived their rough treatment and invaded the German pigeon lofts. Of course after a few days R&R they returned to their home lofts in the UK, being homing pigeons and all. (Personally, having been dropped from a plane in a paper bag I think I'd have set up home where-ever I landed.) My source doesn't reveal how many of the returning pigeons were taken out by the friendly fire of the falcons.

Lord Tredegar complained about the failure of his plan to Lady Baden-Powell, who promptly had MI5 lock him up in the Tower of London for revealing top secret government business.

Don't believe me? This link has more information, including the fact that two enemy pigeons were captured and interned for the duration of the war.

More gardening

2008-10-06T00:22:00.008+10:00

All this blogging about my garden must be getting a bit boring by now, but I couldn't resist these pictures. This is a Dainty Green Tree Frog, otherwise known as a Graceful Green Tree Frog, that I found while I was weeding. It took me about seventy shots with my camera to work out how to take a clear up close piccie because the camera kept focusing on the leaves the frog was sat on.

It really was very beautiful with a creamy white underbelly. It was also a bit of a poser it must be said, maintaining this position for a very long time until I managed to get a few good shots in. I hope this means I'm building an ecosystem in my garden, it does mean I need to get the water feature sorted out pronto with some anti-cane toad devices built in.

I live on the site where the first cane toads were released in Australia, the worlds first effort at biological pest control on a big scale. They proved an unmitigated disaster and have displaced much of the indigenous wild life, including tree frogs in many places. (Rabbits are illegal here as well, for similar reasons.)

Red flowers in the garden

2008-10-05T11:39:00.010+10:00

I was a little down this morning. My garden is a never ending task of monumental proportions that never seems to get anywhere. Then I stopped and smelt the coffee as they say. I considered what the site of our house looked like a bare four years ago.

In addition to it appearing like a barren wasteland it actually was a barren wasteland. There was not a single earthworm on the property, and the first cucumbers I planted all flowered and I got not a single cucumber due to the amazing lack of insects. Actually there were biting insects, just not pollinating ones

The first task was to introduce organic matter, which was easy , we just kept mowing. After the great famine of 2004, I realised that I had no insects and introduced some flowers. I have no idea what the top picture shows, except that it is a bulb.

The exotic hibiscus were the next to survive. Laurence Llewlyn-Bowen (get a shorter name) maintains that if you pour champagne over hibiscus flowers the flowers open for virgins. I maintain they look pretty and grow with no need for any maintenance whatsoever of any kind, except the occasional bout of homicidal pruning. Water poured over the fresh flowers make a sweet hibiscus tea that is very refreshing, hot or cold and apparently reduces blood pressure and cholesterol levels. You can make the tea from fresh or dried flowers, and I am lucky enough to have a totally organic fresh source in my back garden.

The mojo returns....embarrassing moments...

2008-10-04T23:41:00.005+10:00

I reboiled my jam and it set. The relief.

I had made six jars of jam, that ended up as syrup. By the time I went to reboil the jam there were four and a half jars left, so the syrup was all right then? I could have just left it alone, but I had something to prove, to myself at least.

Self worth as measured in ability to set jam? I am getting sad in my old age.

On a lighter note, I was showing the girls at work the picture of Dave Thomas on the previous post this morning when a very attractive lady came in. I served her, and it was obvious she had some sort of North American accent. She saw my computer screen and made some passing comment about the picture. " Oh, that's Dave Thomas ," I said, " We were discussing how hot he is."

The consult continued and then I needed to label something. "Your surname please?"

"Thomas."

Yup that's right.

Basketball

2008-10-03T23:29:00.005+10:00

Tonight saw the Taipans (my team) soundly beaten by the Tigers. (Actually I don't think the score line reflected just how hard the Tigers had to work for the win.) The night brought a couple of good one liners from the commentary team as always, including, "The ref is checking to see if his balls are soft." And I thought I had some unpleasant tasks in my job!

We also got to see the Chris Anstey death stare. His is a face that can only be described as , well, rugged. He is 213cm tall (7 feet). He got called for his fourth foul in the first half and gave the referee what can only be called a laser death stare. I, a ninja master of the laser death stare, (also known as the Paddington hard stare after Paddington Bear) was impressed. This was a laser death stare with knobs on.

The referee, of course, has special anti-death-stare armour. The crowd behind the referee were not so fortunate and great swathes of them fell back in horror as Anstey glared at the ref. Frail old ladies had to be removed and smelling salts administered .

Of course one of the joys of watching the Tapians this year is Dave Thomas, who proves that good looking men do come from Canada. (I, of course, go for the sport.)

Cardiac consultant day

2008-10-02T22:26:00.005+10:00

Today was the day of the cardiac consultant appointment, so predictably I was tense and irritable all day. Homer said he'd pick me up from work at 12:30 to take me to the appointment, because I don't drive anywhere I haven't been before, and I hadn't been there before. Plus I would have panicked I was going to be late, and panicked that I wouldn't find a parking place, and panicked that I couldn't find the place, all in all probably inducing another heart attack.

He didn't pick me up until 12:45 and then went for petrol, by which time I was screaming at him, OK so I was reacting badly to the whole stress thing.

We did get there, only slightly late, and the doctor of course was running even later, so all in all I wasn't late, and it gave me time to calm down to a background level of hysteria rather than outright homicidal rage.

I get into the doctor and he looks at me, sprightly young thing that I am and asks why I am there. Uh? because I was sent, because apparently I had a heart attack, and my blood pressure is really high. He looks at my ECG and says , ooh yes, lets do another one, to compare.

"Are you active?"
"No."
"Do you smoke?"
"No, not for three weeks, one day and two hours, not that I'm counting."

He got me to lie on the bed, "Strip off to the waist, everything including the bra." Off everything comes, and I'm a little uncomfortable lying half naked on a bed without so much as a sheet to cover my modesty whilst he attaches electrodes here, there and everywhere. " MM MM , uh uh ..ooh, "

"What, what, is it beating ? what?"

"Oh sorry, yes oh, um yes, oh see, yes you did have small heart attack. Only a small one though."
I'm thinking, " What? before or just now whilst you were putting the fear of god into me tutting over my ECG?"
" I'll just check your BP." He does this as I'm lying on the bed, still naked. "OOH, that's high." No s**t Sherlock a complete stranger has me lying semi naked on a bed.

"When was the last time you had a mammogram?"
"I haven't, I am too young for the regular program."
"Oh. I'll just do an exam then."
??? " Go for it, knock yourself out." He missed my sarcasm and copped a feel. "Very good." I have got a good rack on me but puleese you're a cardiologist. That was just a free grope because I'm twenty-five years younger than your normal patients. (Homer says actually I'm only fifteen years younger than his normal patients and therefore I qualify as old, and the doctor is a different sort of pervert, so that's OK then!)

He rechecked my blood pressure, which surprisingly enough was still high. "Would you like to put some clothes on?"
"Well actually, if you let me put some clothes on and give me a minute my BP may come down." It didn't though.

"Do you snore?"
"I don't know, I'm asleep."
"I think you have sleep apnoea, maybe you should have a test for that."
"Actually in the last two weeks I have found out that I have had a heart attack, have very high blood pressure and may be a diabetic. I am also becoming psychotic, if you don't believe me ask my family. Do you think we could hold off on yet another diagnosis?"

So upshot of the day,
Yes I had a heart attack, but it was only a small one.
Yes my blood pressure is very high, here are some tablets.
My cholesterol is fine, but that doesn't mean I can start eating lard butties again.
My breast exam was good. (who for?)
I have to have the diabetes test as that is the only reason someone as young as me has a heart attack.
No, I can't start smoking again, and yes I did ask him, you never know, he might have said yes!!!!

I went to a friends gym and enquired about personal training on the basis that losing weight and getting fit will lower my blood pressure, relieve my stress, remove my borderline diabetes and probably cure any sleep apnoea that I have.

Three weeks

2008-10-01T09:19:00.010+10:00

So its officially three weeks that I've stopped smoking, actually its two weeks, six days, twenty-two hours and forty minutes, not that I'm counting or anything. At the moment the picture to left is my porn and fantasy still.

On the plus side my health is better. Actually it isn't in any visible way. I wasn't coughing before so I haven't stopped coughing. My blood pressure was too high before and still is, although I am willing to believe the suggestion that it still too high due to the temporary stress of quitting smoking.

I probably smell better, but then I couldn't smell me before.

I have saved a lot of money, which I have spent mainly on chips and chocolate, thus removing the money, and adding to my weight problem.

The garden is looking better as I have been attacking the weeds each time I felt like attacking a family member. After some consideration I have decided that I should have started digging a hole and continued each time I felt like attacking a family member. Now I'd have a swimming pool, or at least a hole big enough for whichever family member had annoyed me the most. (That's probably why the shovel was hidden along with the knives and spoons.)

It would appear that my sense of humour is returning, although at the moment it is a distant speck on the horizon, laughing at me , not with me.

I did however have a breakthrough this morning. I was at the checkout behind someone who smelt of stale cigarettes. It smelt horrible. I tapped them on the shoulder and said, " You stink, thank-you." Well, no I didn't. I have always hated the smell of stale cigarettes, except for the past three weeks, for which time they have smelt like some strange exotic food dish enticing me onwards. Now I just have to conquer the smell of fresh smoke.

My jam mojo

2008-09-29T21:33:00.006+10:00

My jam mojo may indeed have deserted me DCS. In fact I may have to remove from you the crown of most domestically challenged of the sisters if I cannot make my jam set, but what to replace my crown with? I lack the shoe and fashion gene which our father passed only to you. ( Our mother lacking this gene as well).

I have read stories about women who can't make jam, or pastry, or grow veggies or knit and sew, and I have shaken my head in disbelief and horror. I make cakes without recipe books or scales and gaily chutnify and jam any spare fruit and veg from the garden and then this. This has never happened to me before (except once, with peach marmalade, and I put that down to the vast quantities of brandy I addded to it "for flavour").

The failure of this jam to set has left me bewildered and bemused. I haven't even gone to the help pages of cookery sites, I cannot face it until an alternative view of reality manages to assert itself.

I have to believe at that point I will "come up with something", I just have to.

Note to DCS: I have put an onion marmalade recipe on the other blog, just in case I can never recover. It is very easy.

Strawberry picking

2008-09-28T16:11:00.008+10:00

Today we made the journey to the strawberry fields to pick large quantities of strawberries. We left #2 at work and #1 in bed and set off up the long and winding road to the tablelands. The road is known for making vomiters out of even the most stalwart of children so I did pack a change of clothes for #3 and #4.

Sure enough #4 started immediately. " #3 were you sick last time you came up here?".
" No." says #3.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Retching and heaving noises from #4. " Do you feel sick now?"
"No."
More retching noises, "now?"
"No"
More heaving noises (and a smacking noise, but that was me with my shoe).
"No"
More retching and heaving noises from #4 followed by the real thing from #3. Ha ha ha from #4 and he settles down to watch the tops of the trees pass by below us. (It's a very steep and windy road.)

I distract #3 by telling him that we are going to pick strawberries. Possibly his most favourite thing in the whole world, next to chocolate. Dip a strawberry in chocolate and there is very little he won't do for you. #3 announces sadly that he won't be able to pick or eat any strawberries, what with being sick and all, removes his pants, and lies down on the floor of the car.

Number four asks number three to put his pants back on. "I throw up if I sit down when I'm wearing pants." announces #3. Nonplussed silence from the other three members of the party.

We arrived at the strawberry picking place and #3 was out of the car like a bullet out of a gun (thankfully pausing to put on clean pants and t-shirt) and onto the fields madly eating and picking. Not sick any more then?

We picked vast quantities of strawberries and returned home. (Thankfully #3 restrained himself from vomiting on the way back down, what with all the strawberries and everything.) He did however remove his pants, due to the whole can't wear pants and sit down without vomiting thing. I must check with the school about that next week.....

I have now made batch one of what will probably be several batches of strawberry jam. Number 2 has returned from work, and #1 is still in bed. #4 was going to help with the jam but went off the idea when he realised that they all needed hulling and went off for a swim instead. Number three helped by eating some of the strawberries.

Not a happy cat

2008-09-27T23:01:00.003+10:00

This is a cat with a problem, her servants. (Cats don't have owners, they have servants who look after the houses they live in and feed them.) Her servants have fixed a large bell to her collar to replace the small one that previously warned birds of her approach. She didn't really mind small birds flying away. What is bothering her is that the larger bell can be heard clearly by the blind shitzu from next door. Today she had an "incident" with the shitzu when she went to tap it on the butt and it heard her coming.

It has heard her coming before but been a little confused about what was going on. Finally the dog has worked out that the tinkling noise of the bell is associated with the claws in the butt, and the provision of a larger bell gives it more warning. One of the cat's main sources of amusement has been removed, for now.

This is a cat with attitude, and the attitude at the moment is a bad one. She will have to add this to the long list of grievances she has against her servants, and come the revolution they will be the first against the wall.

She may let the butler off. Now hold on every one this is a bit sickening, but true. This cat comes and pokes her ear onto my husband's toe. She keeps doing this until he wriggles his toe in her ear. She presses her ear against his foot as he wriggles his toe. I feel sick.

Still not smoking

2008-09-26T23:10:00.002+10:00

I'm still not smoking. Smoking is still looking very attractive to me, very attractive indeed.

I was talking to a lady in the shop today about how I had just given up. (I've not turned into an anti smoking bore, she asked me, and therefore asked for it....) I was relating the sniffing story and the way I had disconcerted my fellow shopper in the supermarket by inhaling so deeply next to her.

A stifled giggle later I look over at the next customer in line. He was nodding wisely. " I nearly got arrested," he said. Unthinkingly, he had followed some poor woman out of a shop as she lit up. He followed her almost to her car, veering off with only nanoseconds between him and a stalking charge.

" So, how long until it smells bad to me again?" I asked imploringly.

" Ooh, twenty, thirty years."

Pleeeeeeeeeeeese someone tell me this will get better. Also my family would like to know it gets better, as would the cat, the chickens, and the neighbours. I am grumpy, very grumpy. Actually, I am grumpy, but I was a homicidal maniac so maybe its getting better? ( Any-one want to argue with me about that? uh? uh? come on then.)

Back-yard Camping

2008-09-25T21:54:00.006+10:00

My frangipani...it's actually a far richer, deeper red than this, a deep blood red, so I've got to master photoshop or some such program now. Who knew blogging could be such hard work? My husband buys me a cheap digital camera and I start posting photos, now I want to make them good photos, whatever next. Probably a picture where #4 looks angelic....beyond my skills.

Number three and four wanted to camp in the garden last night. Against all my instincts ( silently screaming, NO NO NO NOT EVER EVER NO NO), I agreed.

I told Homer he had to sit up all night by the back door in case he was needed.

Anyway off go #3 and #4 to the tent, complete with sleeping bags, torches, pillows, spare shoes,(a kitchen sink) and yes, I did say spare shoes. My whole family is dysfunctional, including the cat. I blame my sister for the need for two pairs of shoes on a camping trip across the garden that will last at the most eight hours. Before leaving them for the night I did a quick check that there were no lighters, candles or home made rocket launchers in the tent.

Number three fell into a deep and cherubic sleep until the early hours when he came in all warm and toasty and got in his own bed just to finish off the night. Number four lasted about one hour. I asked Homer, " How come #3, who is known as a bit of a wuss, can sleep all night in a tent, but #4, who is the complete rufty-tufty lasts all of an hour?"

" That's easy, number three knows the worst that is out there, it's number four. He's seen his fear and faced it. Number four can only imagine."

Dear DCS: I still maintain that you couldn't decide between your pictures and your jewellery in a house fire as you'd be far to busy deciding which shoes were most appropriate to wear whilst being rescued by a fireman.

More fruit trees

2008-09-22T09:42:00.007+10:00

I just put my avocado tree in the garden from its hiding place under the shade cloth at the side of the house. Now we wait to see if the burning sun kills it, or it decides to thrive.

It seems strange to matter of factly talk about planting an avocado tree when I hadn't even tasted real avocado until seven years ago. Avocados don't ripen until you pick them from the tree so the tree acts as a kind of larder. If you don't pick the fruit it stops producing more fruit, so you get a supply and demand situation going on, hopefully.

I have also ripped out the tomato tree, I am enjoying eating the tomatos but I can't preserve the excess in any useful way because it is all cherry tomatoes. I make lots of chutney etc, but really, life's too short to skin and de seed cherry tomatoes, and the yield is way too small per tomato. Never fear, I have back up bushes of Roma and yellow tomatoes just coming on.

The chickens are a little put out at the vast quantities of ripe and semi-ripe tomatoes they have just been presented with. (The neighbours have long since started slamming doors in my face as they see me approach with my tomato bucket.)

Am I bad?

2008-09-21T07:25:00.003+10:00

I just clicked on one of my own AdSense adds offering free Vaseline products.....I wanted the free gift and I like the product. Will AdSense hunt me down and fire me over a tube of Vaseline, hope not

lemon tree issues

2008-09-20T11:08:00.009+10:00

My lemon tree and I have issues. I want lemons, it wants, well that's the problem, I don't know what it wants so that it will give me lemons.

The first year I got one small hard as rock scabby looking lemon. The second I had two hundred percent increase in yield, three scabby looking lemons.

Finally this year we appear to have come to some sort of accommodation and it is fairly loaded with baby lemons. The only thing I have done differently is hurl coffee grounds at it in a fit of pique.

To avoid the scabby scaly lemon thing I have been advised to use white oil,( a mixture of vegetable oil and washing up liquid). Of course I went and bought more expensive washing up liquid than I would normally use in the house and special oil for the purpose, I hope the tree appreciates it, because I had seen nothing wrong with buying more expensive stuff to spray on the tree than I use for the kitchen until my husband pointed out the total lack of logic.

Here's #3 and 4 "helping". This mainly involves climbing on the fence and arguing over the spray bottle until one pushes the other off.

We found a huge grasshopper, which #4 wants as a pet, here's a shot of him going off up the garden to catch it, before I stopped him. I don't really fancy finding a huge dead grasshopper in a jar under his bed in a week when he's forgotten about it.

When Homer realised I was using a tiny little spray bottle he grandly got out his master blaster model and loaded it up. Of course I just have to hope he washed it well from his poisoning spree. He (of course) didn't read the dilution instructions for the white oil. A fact he didn't admit to when questioned, but it became obvious as he sidled off to the tap to add some water to his spray gun after I casually mentioned the dilution rate to #3, so as he could overhear it it doncha know.