Friday, May 12, 2017

It was all go this morning

Groceries were supposed to arrive between 8 and 11 so I was up at 7.  Doing all the lovely stuff on the computer that I used to run around doing.  Always check the Book Depository bargains and today we have a winner.  I have had a book on my wishlist for so long but could not justify the $139 it was priced at but I kept it there to look at.  150 years of Wartski's by Geoffrey Munn and 200 photographs, a lot of the socialites and royalty wearing the jewells.  I've bought books before with not enough photos and very wordy almost text book about jewellery but I thought I couldn't go wrong with Geoffrey. The lovely man who almost shakes out of his shoes when he gets a shinning jewell on the Roadshow.  It was reduced to $80, this is the moment a credit card shines so I bought.

By this time it was no good getting in the shower so breakfast instead.  Knock on door, nbn has arrived but only to put the box on the outside.  Another crew will turn up at some time and put the box on the inside.  No shower.  Groceries turn up and I am furious that for the second time they have run out of potatoes which means going out and carting home the heavy things. 
nbn crew are still on the roof, no shower.
Another fluoro vest goes past, I'm expecting mail, he's going too fast to drop off mail.  Fluoro does a u-turn down the drive and drops two parcels at the door and I find another in the mail box this afternoon and he doesn't shut the gate.  No shower yet.  nbn crew move along and I close my eyes for a moment after ringing mother and wake up at midday with the usual drool down my chin and a parched throat like the Gobi desert.  At least I try to wake up, it takes a while and I still haven't showered.  There's plenty of time to do that and get to Southland but I stand up and the world turns.
I feel like someone has punched me on the cheekbone, there is a pain in my forehead so I decide to sit down again.

Too much rushing around this morning, not enough sleep last night (full moon) and I am sitting here waiting to have a shower and wash my hair to go out tomorrow.  I think I'm just about steady enough if I move carefully.  The cat is waiting for his bowl, the eyes are boring into my back. 

Apart from the sinus whatever and the after affects of Prednisolone I am still shaking and anxious.  I should know by now that having anything to do with granddaughters also means the ex daughter in law.  One should forgive and forget, I don't, I forget entirely the fact that she still lives until something happy comes up and she is there.  I know too much about her to forgive, it's easier to forget and most of the time I can.  A lot of friends have gone from my life, moved on or upwards and I no longer think of them but she is personal.  She is a toad under a rock, in her mind she has turned her life around and now bathes in the love of God, such a hypocrite.  I bet the Devil is happy, she won't be sitting at his right hand.  That felt good, nothing like a bit of bile and bitterness thrown at someone who doesn't know it.  I'm still shaking but a hot shower is on the way.  Funny thing is, I don't hate the bitch, she lost far more than I did, I just don't want to acknowledge she exists.

Hot shower and hair wash, if you don't hear from me, send the Ambos around to pick me up off the tiles.

Thursday, May 11, 2017

My mind was made up for me.

So three years ago, I had a CT scan for the deviated septum and because it wasn't something that seemed important, I thought another year would be okay.  Except now it is affecting my balance badly.  Usually one bad fall a year and ring the Ambos who bring the blow up cushion and I'm right.  It's so annoying to hurt yourself trying to get up than it does crashing to the ground.  
It 's a joy to remember to turn to the right, turning off the kitchen light turn to the light in the lounge first, sit on the bed before standing and don't cover the right nostril or oxygen doesn't get in.
Bite the bullet, sister, and get thee an appointment at the specialist and I wasn't expecting 30th May but we have it.  Another CT scan, blood test but no fasting test because of some other medication that sends glucose all the way to the moon.  I still have the 2014 scan so they can tell the difference.  Just as long as no one decides to stick a sharp thing up my nose for a biopsy while I am still conscious.

It wasn't a flying leap out of the back door, I just put recycle paper in that bin, turned to grab the walker to get the mail and I was sitting on the bottom step. I didn't want to scratch the skin on my legs on the concrete so I swung around and managed to up myself to the next step.   You all know by now the rules of knee replacements, never sit with bum lower than knees unless you're some little fairy like thing that can float upwards.  I could hold the walker but trying to pull myself up with that would just bring it down on the top of my head.  I needed two strong blokes to lean on the walker and I'd have been up in a trice.  Instead I had to crawl inside to get to the phone and crawling across the steel rails of the sliding door is not fun.  And I mean bum crawl, not on knees, that's a screaming crawl with loads of swearing.  So I manage the door to the carpet and plonk for a moment.  Oh my giddy aunt, the floor doesn't look too bad when standing up but at cat level, it's appallllling.  Never let anyone tell you a short hair cat does not shed.  From floor level it looked like spider webs hanging off everything and believe me I''m trying not to look down a week later.

I should have pulled a cushion to the floor before I rang because the bones started to feel like they were trying to slice through the blubber after a while.  I always get guilty ringing in case an ambulance is urgently needed elsewhere but they just by-pass me and ring to let me know.  It's a shame they didn't pass on the message to the three ambos who turn up that I needed the blow up cushion, I had to wait another half hour.  That was after this little creature took my blood pressure with a crushing that would have done Arnie proud.  That was the arm that must have hit the sliding door and I hadn't noticed but do I have a bruise that could outdo a sunset at Broome Beach.
Next lot turn up.  No small blow up cushion, we have the lifeboat off the Titanic again and because of the moronic nbn who need to get into my sewing room, right in the corner, the lounge is crowded with "STUFF".  Impossible to move the coffee table.  So she spreads it all out and says could I slide down and on to the rubber.  Oh no problemo except for the three large pipe openings where the hose goes in to blow it up.  What she really meant was, let's go for it and rip you a new one.

Here we go and tell the experts, roll that in half, I will roll over as far as I can towards the coffee table or if you like the Carpathia and you can slide the flat rubber behind me up to my shoulders. I will then roll over and you can pull it straight and then blow it up.  Stares of surprise, the fat lady is right.
20 seconds later and I'm ascending and I say another 4 inches but why,  well by the time I get to the bottom of this to stand up I'm going to have squished it right down so she does that and I squish it down to the right size and stand up, walk over to my chair and sit.  They are always so surprised that I have not hurt myself but I'll hurt tomorrow.  Another blood pressure test which is 160 over I'm not telling you and they're off.

Cat gets up on the chair, stares into my eyes and asks if my can opening hand is broken.  Bloody get up and open his tea.  I'm thinking of my tea but decide not to bend over to find the gin.  I do decide to ring the doc and make an appointment for the morning.  Then I make a promise that if all this STUFF is going to be hanging around I'd better make it tidy so for the last week I've been playing with fabric and throwing out STUFF.
Arm is still glowing sunset.  My mother has been told that anywhere near the 30th, a near death experience will not keep me by her side.  The balance on the left side is actually bothering me especially after this week when I bent down to pick up a safety pin which went straight into my foot and I backed up to the toilet and jammed the foot on top of the toilet roll and sat until it stopped bleeding.  Bravely I showered, got out, towelled down and I'm bleeding again.  The towell was rough and I'd rubbed the fine skin too hard.
Bedroom, throw myself onto the bed, bandage up the leg and then deal with the foot.  Do you know how hard it is to hold a small torch, mirror and bandaid in one hand while trying to find a small hole that doesn't want to be found.  I managed, better than cutting down on this blog post.

My stars said I would have a great month, my Tarot said straight ahead, all will be well, my Angel cards said happy addition to the family....What?? but that was the engagement and she has asked me to bead part of her dress.  Sharp beading needles, white lace, hope next month's astrology is good.

Monday, April 24, 2017

I suddenly feel older.


My youngest Granddaughter
just announced her
Engagement.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Why bother?



This is Ashley James and she's wearing a  Bluebella emerson bra.  At least she's not wearing a Bluebella emerson thong, painful.  Coming from someone who should register her boobs as lethal weapons, I really shouldn't throw tits at tits but these look so uncomfortable I just had to speak up.
I know feminists are supposed to support women in anything they choose to do and wear and if Ashley wants to tie herself in triangles, good for her.   All I can see is me tying myself in knots trying to figure out what string goes where and what part will it support.  

This is when I thought of men wearing this, they'd only have to wear half of the Bluebella emerson but wait for a moment and it will blow your mind, yes, you've got it. Their anatomy means two bits will fall out and one bit will be strangled. A fitting revenge for the comfort of their boxer boy legs they didn't think we should wear.  

Is that a little garbled?  Well I haven't had any coffee and I'm going to see mother and I can't find any knickers which is why Ashley got right up my nose.  I am wearing underwire bras but one wire has gone missing so slightly lopsided until I yoiked up the strap and I am now even.  I need coffee.

Friday, April 21, 2017

Will migrants be grilled on the tradition of BBQ sausage on bread?

Dear Prime Minister and that other moron that seems to be attached to your side these days,

How many languages do you speak?
At least little Nigel Molesworthless spoke Mandarin.

Do you really think that Pauline Hanson would pass this test?  Perhaps another section should be added, 'foot in mouth' English. I suppose she can still speak 'Chippie' although her current BimBot wouldn't allow such vulgarity.

Shorten would pass, he speaks English and Butch Union. Umm, possibly knows the Qld code of beer can clicking but only the Secret Union Stuff.

Abbott speaks and lies in fluent English. There, another section  'Can you tell a lie like or believe one from a backbencher?'

Should cheating and running around the rules using 'Lawyer speak' be a separate section since so many Parlimentarians are so fluent in it?

And you wouldn't put Barnaby in charge of the language of the Bard, although I have heard he speaks 4 languages, English, Sheep Shit, Cow Crap and Utter Rubbish.

Ignore anyone in Parliament who comes from Queensland, not good with English but do seem to be fluent in Coal seam and mumbling with a secret code of beer can clicking.

Now dear Mr Trumpbull, er, Crumbull, damn let's just go with Malcolm, as warm and cuddly  as a dying Barrier Reef, I don't think you've given the new Migrant test for being a "Beer swilling, fly wrangling, thong wearing, sheila respecting, bloody good Aussie Bloke" a really good think. 
Won't somebody think of the children?  Our children who only speak Strine who'll be out there competing with migrants who must speak at least two languages, sometimes three if it's a dialect of the other two. 

 Parliamentarians should show an example, start at the top of the dung heap and it will trickle down to the peasantry.  Learn another language, speak it, read it, swear in it, cheat in it but show some guts and do what you're asking a 95 year old person, sometimes illiterate, probably traumatized from years of drone bombing whose only dream is peace and quiet and food.
So get orf ya bumcrack, take that beady eyed boofhead and have another go at alienating the world.

I, myself, have already set a fine example of speaking proper good English and a ripper dialect of Foul. 

Yours in Mateship, Coppy 
(see that, half way through a Phd in nickname)