Out with the old

**pulls out a fresh box of tissues**

I haven't been to bed yet, but it is already New Year's Eve out there. And in here. I've been sitting in the arbor with the garden lights going, post beer, post Pams, pondering what this day really means.

It's the final day in a sequence of days (hours minutes seconds nanoseconds) created by man (He who had the audacity to measure the year at 365.25 days and really fuck the calendar up) to measure the passing of His time - it's only people need that sort of accuracy, Nature takes care of her own.

This day should have been my parents' 53rd wedding anniversary, but Mum didn't make it that far.

It could be the anniversary of the birth of lots of noteworthy people or the death of others largely unfamiliar.

It could be the day that I empty the bin of the unnecessary baggage this last year has brought and do an Eminem and clean out my closets. Sitting out there at 2 in the morning listening to plums hitting the ground and the nets, I thought about why the tree has such a huge crop this year that branches are breaking off in the wind and rain under the weight whilst large amounts of new growth sprout all around the base. I think the tree approves of its new treatment. Last year it was buried behind corrugated iron and tilt doors until we moved it all. And I say we, giving Ian all credit for what he did around the garden. But not for what I did afterwards.

I painted the landscape and I made the place happy and kept myself sane at the same time growing things and deriving satisfaction from harvesting my labours - strawberries, rhubarb, cabbage, peas, lettuce, radishes, gherkin, plums, spring onions and chives so far, tomatoes corn, cucumbers, sunflowers, shallots, more peas, more cabbages, more rhubarb to come soon.

And so, sitting in the dark inside that landscape, and the simplicity of the bounty it's given back and I thought about all those New years Resolutions I won't be making because it's bullshit and all the hype of a new year beginning that I won't be heavily indulging in and that my focus should be on letting go of those things which serve no purpose but to hurt me, so that I might find a little peace and freedom to savour what tiny victories I achieved during a year of loss and adjustment.

I am becoming resigned to the possibility that the numbness in my hands and feet might not go away, even that it could get worse. That my legs might just continue to weaken. And that clonazepam might end up a daily feature again - and thus risk the addiction again. I've hit a brick wall in fighting the MonSter so I think I need a new strategy. I think I should start by taking care of me. Because no one else will.

But first I think I have to find "me" again.

In my quest for painfreedom I might check the bottom of the glass bottles tonight at our favourite family watering hole at the FlatCat's in Thames. It's been a year of pain and misery, of losing what matters, fear and tears. But today, that year ends. Tomorrow's pain might be more hang over related... Flattie's 2 x Canterbury Cream for $20 purchase might ensure that...

May this new calendar year bring you the very best it can. Without the hangover.

Percentages

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Are you one of the 98 or one of the 2?

I'm a 2.

Figures.

Dusted

**pulls out a fresh tissue, dabs up the crumbs**

Well, another christmas has been bought and wrapped and unwrapped and cooked and served and eaten, the remains of trifle and salads and ham hoarded carefully to be eked out as long as possible.

There's a bit of aromatic indigestion doing the rounds, too, and it's not just the dog. She just seems to get all the blame because she ate all the leftovers.

Our day was good, we broke bread in the evening with friends and family, having been blessed with lots of yummy treats and thoughtful gifts during the day, not enhanced by a bit of a meltdown on my part after mowing the lawn in the sun at midday. After some temper tantrums and a sleep, I was merely snarky and irritable and all the lovely pressies couldn't hide the fact that the one thing I wanted for Christmas is the one thing I'll never get.

I bet I'm not the only one felt like that, eh... I wish we could email Santa and find them in our stocking on Christmas morning.

Knock out

**pulls out a fresh bottle**

Great Christmas. Lovely.

This is what happens when one has a beer (or two) too many.

One ends up a bit mothered from watching it.

I hope you got mothered, too.

Here's Johnny

**Remembers Kirsty**

Merry Christmas - It was a toss up between The Pogues with Kirsty, or Lennon.

They both won.





Amen.

One sleep

**makes another milo**

One more sleep - The Night Before Xmas.

Two sleeps

**thinks about cookies and milk**

Just a couple more - Achmed



*grabs box of tissues, mops up**

Don't forget to check out Santa's mail box.

Three sleeps

**...**

Three sleeps - hysterical stuff with KBW (not for sensitive souls)

Four sleeps

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Four sleeps - Historical stuff



Well it was either that or this.



I'd go postal before the first night was over if I lived next door to that shit...

Five sleeps

**snorts all over the tissues**

I'm going to count down to Christmas in Video.

Five Sleeps - the True Blue Collar boy himself, Larry the Cable Guy.

Give it a whirl

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

The Old Boy has been making a little patio thingy and wanted pavers from around here - specifically the ones that match both our/my patios. I had a pile stacked ready to take away, which he didn't think would be enough, although I thought there were. When he was almost finished, he ran out of cobbles and needed 3 more. I knew where 2 were but the third eluded us, despite looking around in all the likely places. That is until I walked past one sitting in broad daylight right beside the front path as he was leaving. He had just enough.

It was the same for the brick path in Little Arbor and pavers for the Squat in the corner.

Enough.

Remember this post a few months ago?

I've gone right off everything really, or had done until we got $86 in Lotto and I spent it on buying paint to get on with upstairs cos that's what I asked the Universe for the other say and now it's provided it, I better follow through if I want more stuff to appear like that, eh! Next week is Round Two in Vic's Nan's garden, destroying 50 years of jungle to salvage plants before they all get sprayed. Instant garden, my idea of "ooooooooooh baby!".

I have lots more stuff I want to "appear" - a nice BBQ is next

We've been eating off the bbq for the past two weeks. It showed up a couple of days after I posted a message to FreeCycle. I still have paint left over to continue with in the autumn and all Nan's plants survived the transplanting and are thriving.

I wish the big asks were so easily accomplished... Gods, how I wish.

Watching/listening to: Split Enz, giving it a whirl.



Those were the days...

Get funky

**pulls strings**

A little wake up funkiness from the fabulous Carlos. Because I can.



PS sux to be you, Mark cos I forgot to come and fix that ActiveX problem on ya computer, eh... and you can't see YouTube vids, eh... oh well, that another 5 minutes of time you won't waste on here then, eh ;-)

You could always bring the box around at christmas and I could spend like 3 minutes or something fixing it, call it ya chrissy pressie and then you could pat me on the head and say "good girl".

Unless I'm pissed.

I don't drink and screw. Especially with computers.

Fuckers.

Wonderful

If you watched that clip and listened to the words, you might be having a hyperglycemic episode from the sweet, schmaltzy sentiments or you might be a little more philosophical about them and be on the same page as me right now.

But probably not. However, I will get you up to speed, never fear.

As you know, I've been reading The Power of Now and come to a few conclusions, despite not having read it all (or probably intending to, it's a bit OTT, ya know?).

The main feature is that Tolle has a couple of basic Truths contained within the heavy padding of some rather intense spirito-babble (yeah, I made that up, deal with it *snort*) possibly induced by better drugs than I have. These are basics that most people probably miss a lot in the stresses and commitments of ordinary daily life, especially me. I think Tolle is correct, there really is only Now - we can't change what's gone and we can't predict what's coming, all we can have any input to is now. And that Now is very important.

I can think of at least 3 regular readers of this blog who have probably learnt to appreciate the importance of Now, even if they do tend to forget it sometimes. Mark, you are obviously meant to be here and if your heart won't quit and dangling your arse in the breeze to string those bloody lights didn't kill you, I guess the Guys Upstairs just haven't figured out what to do with you yet.

Peter? Correct me if I'm wrong but I suspect you are similarly placed - I think they might have all but thrown you back as well?

And Jamie... there is a tiny glimpse of a silver lining within the big, black cloud hanging over you both. It's called Now and Now is all we have.

I know I should be making much better use of it...

This Philosophical Epiphany was brought to you by the letters BB, the number 8 and the colour green. I like green.

PS I've forgotten what the other point is that I wanted to expound on. It's your lucky night after all, innit. As for Rob Thomas.. hmmmmmmmmmm yummy.

Painted on

**pulls out a fresh tissue wallpaper**

I might never change my desktop again



and then again...


PS - there's no Dylan there.


PPS - I hate teaching brats people to parallel park.

Pound

**fuck the tissues**

I am sure that you can think of at least 10 very good reasons why one should not smack oneself on the hand with a hammer.

I needed only one; BECAUSE IT FUCKING HURTS.

So does hitting one's shins on a hard, plastic box corner, standing on sharp objects in bare feet, pruning Alberic, wearing long gumboots in the sun whilst tending the fire in the pit and dropping the pitchfork on one's unshod foot.

It's been a busy few days.

Perigee

**issues a fresh tissue**

It used to be once. Then it was twice. Now it's three times a night.

That's how many times I am getting up at night lately and I hate it.

I've tried going to bed early; I've tried going to bed late. I've done the pills. I've tried it pissed, with wheat sacks and without and I still can't capture that illusive thing of Legend - sleep untroubled by pain or spasticity, jerks (Sperm Donor got dumped by the Buffet Bird btw) or writhing snakes (oh yeah, we are anticipating Simon to ring and stalk H once more when she turns 18 in a couple of weeks like he did on her 16th birthday, he reckoned he could wait until she was an adult and was no longer "under my thumb" enough to stop him).

Never mind, at least lately there has been a glorious moon cascading across my bed to not sleep in.



Magic, eh.

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Stuck

**pulls out a fresh tissue, dunno why**

The big kids had their bbq party tonight. It was entertaining.

I spent the day putting up the christmas lights in the arbors, shopping for pretty things like cable ties and bungy cords and playing taxi all over the place. H had invited the Sperm Donor and SD (who admits he forgot it was on until she rang him this afternoon) brought his latest piece with him, enough alcohol to sustain them (including a bottle of wine with one glassful left in it, which she promptly dispatched) but no food. Well not so much the latest, it's the same piece he had his paws all over in the restaurant way back in July, after splitting with his other piece, that he got back with not long afterwards, who he isn't with now and is back with the Buffet Bird again.

Confused? Not as confused as BB, all liquored up as she was. They sat at the picnic table and he stroked her arse (I kid you not, Ads was gob-smacked, so blatant was he in front of all the kids), touched her every 3.27 seconds (average, the kids compared notes afterwards) and played a little game of "I'm the Man, I can still pull a bird, see, even if my 2 previous wives kicked me to the kerb) and at one point wandered inside (he wasn't completely sober when they arrived, either) and said he hoped I didn't mind him bringing her, but she was already at his house *rolls eyes*, so I said "I don't care, but stop stroking her arse, ok? it's not on".

Ads snorted and left the kitchen for a minute.

When I finally sat down to eat, I sat next to her but they were so engrossed in talking animatedly about who owned what furniture and appliances in his flat and how could his roomie not own hardly anything and that everything in her house was hers and he said it didn't matter where he lived as long as he could get to work and somewhere rural was ok... on and on and on in what sounded like a prep list for them moving in together... I thought "cool, I don't have to make conversation, I can talk to all the kids instead!".

So I did and it was much more fun chatting with teens than him, anyway. It always is.

Then Sequel and I went upstairs to finish sealing the new seams on the repaired top balcony with No More Nails and the flooring stuff that's up there and she said she knew BB from work and she is an alcoholic. The kids had already figured that out.

It was not long after that that I stepped in the patch of NMN and glued my toes together...

Great Southern Land

**pulls out a fresh tissue, wipes streaming eyes**

Rules for visiting the South Island are as follows:

1. Pull your pants up. You look like an idiot.
2. Turn your cap right, your head ain't crooked.
3. Let's get this straight: it's called a 'gravel road.' I drive a Ute because I want to. No matter how slow you drive, you're gonna get dust on your Lexus. Drive it or get out of the way.
4. They are sheep. That's why they smell like sheep. They represent wool & food to us. Get over it. Don't like it? SH1 goes north, find it and F**k off
5. So you have a $60,000 car. We're impressed. We have $350,000 tractors that are driven only 3 weeks a year.
6. Every person in the South waves. It's called being friendly. Try to understand the concept.
7. Yeah. We eat trout, salmon, deer and duck. You really want sushi and caviar? It's available at the corner bait shop.
8. The 'Opener' refers to the first day of duck season. It's a religious holiday, we will observe it!
9. We open doors for women. That's applied to all women, regardless of age.
10. No, there's no 'vegetarian special' on the menu. Order steak, or you can order the Chef's Salad and pick off the 2 pounds of ham and turkey.
11. When we set a table, there are three main dishes: meats, vegetables and breads. We use three spices: salt, pepper, and Watties Tomato sauce!
Oh, yeah We don't care what you folks in Ponsonby call that stuff you eat. IT AIN'T REAL CHILLI!!
12. You bring 'Coke' into my house, it better be brown, wet and served over ice. You bring 'Mary Jane' into my house, she better be cute, know how to shoot, drive a truck, and have long hair.
13. High School Rugby is as important here as the All Blacks, the Highlanders and the Crusaders and a heap more fun to watch.
14. Yeah, we have golf courses. But don't hit the water hazards, it spooks the fish.
15. Turn down that blasted car stereo! That thumpity-thump cr@p ain't music, anyway. We don't want to hear it anymore than we want to see your boxers! Refer back to #1!

What a winner

**giggles and pulls out a fresh tissue; wipes**



If "Phinny" is that lucky, how come they are flogging themselves milking the masses in two hour chunks using statistical data freely available to the public?

Methinks someone is telling porkies...!

I figure that someone desperate enough to leave that on my windscreen at the Warehouse tonight needs all the free advertising they can get.

No-one said it had to be positive

Cleaning up

**pulls out a nostalgic tissue**



I was going to say something but that's stripped my mind of coherent thought. And added a few years to my personal chronologometer.

Reap

**rummages under pressies and pulls out a fresh tissue**

I'm being spoilt. I have pressies. From lots of people. Birthdays are cool (and so is 45)!

*Eyes up bottle of bubbly* Just because it's only 9.12 am here, it's still night time somewhere else, eh!

Later:

Birthdays are bad. Really really bad. Just shocking.

People give you wine and chocolate.

Ads cooked a yummy dinner and I opened the bottle of wine Glorius gave me and had one, then took the bottle down there and had a couple more, staggered came home and fell asleep like some wino. Jesus, knocked on my ass before dark. Now I'm awake I might just have a bit of that choc Shazz gave me ;-)

Here's something to go with choc



The incomparable Victoria Wood.

Hearty

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Ads and I were sitting in the garden this afternoon, making the most of the lovely weather and discussing what we might do on Christmas Day and we thought we might have a bbq in the evening for a change now that the place is all ship shape and the bbq cleaned up and ready for action.

So we started naming people we might like to invite to this exclusive little grill-fest and after a while, Ads says "Invite anyone you want".

And then we sat some more and enjoyed the afternoon together. It was nice. Next weekend, the Big Teens are having a party/bbq to celebrate their 18th birthdays. Hands up who wants to bounce for a group of rowdy teens from a Church Youth group?

Looks like I'm it then, eh. I suppose I won't even be allowed to say "fuck" out loud.

*sigh*

Funny shit

**pulls out a fresh tissue, wipes eyes**

I stumbled on a site of quotes from IRC

cat is a catnip junkie
she loves rubbing her face in it
i thought it was weird
until I imagined what I would do with pot if I didnt have thumbs or fire
more...

This is an oldie but a goodie...

(+ware) I rear-ended a car this morning. So there we are alongside the road and
(+ware) slowly the driver gets out of the car . . . and you know how you just get sooo
(+ware) stressed and life seems to get funny?
(+ware) Well, I could NOT believe it . . he was a DWARF! He storms over to my car,
(+ware) looks up at me and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"
(+ware) So, I look down at him and say, "Well, which one are you then?"... and
(+ware) THAT'S when the fight started . .

This cracked me up big time

**You know you're in a Racist channel when you see this**
(19:22:54) I like my coffee the way I like my niggers.
(19:22:59) Dead?
(19:23:01) In the Field?
(19:23:02) In jail?
(19:23:06) Killing each other?
(19:23:08) Stealing?
(19:23:09) Covered in blood?
(19:23:11) 5$ a piece?
(19:23:13) Stupid?
(19:23:20) ...
(19:23:31) BLACK YOU FUCKING RACIST BASTARDS! I LIKE MY COFFEE BLACK!

This one is just for Flattie

December is just around the corner, and you know what that means.
Christmas?
no
DOCTOR WHO CHRISTMAS SPECIAL 2008

Reaping the rewards

**screws up a fresh tissue**

45 isn't old, is it?

Nor is being able to remember most of these adverts?


MILK?

A farmer called Murray is bringing his cows in, and one of the cows says "morning Murray"
and he replies "morning girls".

L'EGGS PANTYHOSE ??

There's my Mum - the one with the baggy pantyhose

TIP TOP TRUMPET

'I once bought an icecream for a girl named Fay,

Till Roger the bully stole them both away

But now that I'm grown-up look what I've got

- it's a trumpet Fay and it's made by Tip Top (made by Tip Top)


It's the finest ice cream that money can buy.

It's got chocolate and nuts, six flavours to try.

It's the treat for the big boys I told her, and then, and then...

Oh lordy, it's Roger again!

One day, Roger Fitch, one day...!

ho hum it's been raining and my gardens are lapping it up. I wandered around and ate peas and strawberries today. The corn is doing well, cabbages, shallots, beans, peas, tomatoes, spring onions and potatoes are growing heaps, peanuts and chives are sluggish and so are the caulis and water melon but the pumpkin and the mint are making up for it. We've been eating the rhubarb and will be supping on strawberries soon; the plum crop has mostly survived the winds and the grape vine is bursting out with baby bunches all over. Flowers are in bloom everywhere and it's a place of peace and green. I should feel rested, yet instead, I feel restless (and it ain't just my legs) like there is something coming. I don't think my incipient birthday has anything to do with it - I think it's more the approaching summer and those long, lazy days (how will I tell the difference? Oh yeah, it will be 28° outside and I'll be making love to my aircon unit) with a little time for me and fuck everyone else. I'm overdue some of that. I even have the T-Shirt for it



and those heavenly long balmy evenings pottering around at the end of the day, beer in one hand, ciggie in the other, good company, good music...

A time of reaping? You bet; this past year has been pretty hard going in so many, many ways...

oh well, *drains ciggie and stubs out beer* bedtime.

Bread and Pams

**shreds a fresh tissue**

I was out in the arbor at 4 this morning (after previously being up at 3), watching the light pollution bounce off the heavily overcast sky and light everything up with a dark orange glow, almost like an aurora.

And we don't even live near the South Pole... or Invercargill... and I was looking due North...

Thomas sat on my lap and we chatted about this and that, the lack of food awaiting him in the kitchen, the wet grass between the arbor and the kitchen and the potential need for feline transportation until exhaustion hit and I thought I could go back to bed and sleep through the nest of snakes writhing inside my left leg. Eventually.

I slept a lot of the day and tonight, I am having the PAMs thanks. I guess that's the first real sign that the steroids didn't quite do as much as intended.

I do have this to show for them, though,



the beginning of my outdoors indoors (or is that indoors outdoors), the living room that stays tidy even when the kids have trashed the one inside. Yes, even if a blanket, a coffee and wheatie are needed to keep out the cold.

And some screens. And lights. And weatherproof side covers. And stuff.

Cool, eh.

Doggone pleasure

**pulls out fresh tissues, hands 'em to this guy**

Man caught with penis in pasta jar

A man caught near New South Wales's Nobbys Beach with his penis in a pasta sauce jar led police on a 20kmh car chase, has had his day in court.

Newcastle police drew their weapons when they suspected Keith Roy Weatherley, 46, was armed.

Instead, they found him partially clothed with his genitals in a jar, a police statement said.

Weatherley attracted attention parked in a no-stopping zone before noon on October 26.

Police believed Weatherley was doing something with his hands in his lap and thought that he might have a weapon.

Weatherley saw the police and drove away, despite them flashing their lights.

The chase lasted five to 10 minutes, with a top speed of just 20 kmh, before Weatherley was stopped at Centenary Drive, Newcastle. He refused to leave the car.

Four officers used batons and capsicum spray to remove him.

They found a 750-millilitre jar around his penis and noted that Weatherley attempted to continue "pleasuring himself in between bouts of wrestling".

A search of his car uncovered pornography, a home-made sex aid, women's stockings and a Jack Russell terrier.

Weatherley pleaded guilty to offensive behaviour, resisting police and disobeying a police direction.

Magistrate Elaine Truscott asked Weatherley, who represented himself, why he behaved the way he did.

He said he resisted police because he was trying to make himself "decent".

He was fined $600 for offensive behaviour and convicted of the other two offences without further action.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/4767723a12.html

Does the presence of the dog bring a whole new meaning to "jacking off"?

Pussywhipped

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

The Bible has a couple of holes in it - the Interweb told me so. You can do what I did and visit Heaving Dead Cats to read them for yourself. I haven't got very far yet, I'm still laughing over the irony of #1 - "Man was created equal, male and female. Gen.1:27.
Woman was created as a companion to the man only after he rejected the animals. Gen.2:18-24."

I can't believe Adam knew what the fuck he was doing gave informed consent when he turned down a guaranteed sheep for the potential to be eaten alive by a lioness.

reeeooowwwwwwww

Drawn out

**rummages for a fresh box**

Here you go guys, play with this for a while. It's fun. I'm going to bed, I'm sick.

Oh, if you get peckish, pop in here for some cake.

Showers forecast

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Finally, today we got some rain for the garden. Not that I saw a lot of it, I had a sleepy day and snoozed through large chunks of it which gave me time to write a mental list of the goods and the not so goods two weeks post steroid.

Shame I've forgotten where I put it, eh...

Anyway, when I was in the shower a short time ago, I noticed something else to add to the lost list of liabilities and liberations; dancing in the shower. Shower dancing is an unnatural phenomenon created by the contact between water of a constant temperature and skin which is unable to accurately relay the temperature of the flow to the brain, hence some places feeling hot, some feeling cold and some not feeling anything at all in between. I tell ya, avoiding the extremes can keep one rocking and rolling, even better than Ray Woolf and his La-Z-Boy chair.

Anyway, tis late so I'm off to curl up with my sweetie wheatie and a book. There is nothing like a good book.



Words do indeed create Worlds.

Breezily

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

What a beautiful late spring day today was. The breeze blew breezily, the sun shone sunnily, the grass was green and the sky was blue and the fluffy clouds were white. The garden was perfect, the coffee wasn't too nasty, the stereo pumped out the sound (in stereo), the dog snored, the big teens sat on the lawn and chatted, the little teen played with the drill press he dug out of the gear out the back, Sequel reclined on the swing seat and read a book with her MP3 player going and I sat in Little Arbor, took pics wiv my new cellphone and absorbed a little more Power of Now as previously mentioned (interesting bit about Zen, still no motorbike).

No hassles, no tasks to perform, no stress, no fuss. No wuckin furries.

Absolute bliss.

I don't know whose fucking house I was at but it sure as Hell didn't seem like mine!

Thursday night veg

**puts out another snotty soggy tissue**

I stumbled on this tonight. Look carefully; there's a quiz right after.



Now see if you can answer this correctly

What does/should that building remind you of?

A. a bullet
B. a a penis
C. a vibrator
D. a gherkin
E. a space craft

If you answered A, you would be thinking the same as me.
If you answered B, you have been celibate too long.
If you answered C, you need to add batteries to your shopping list
If you answered D, you have been vegetarian too long
If you answered E, you are too optimistic.


If you answered D, you are also correct.

There is more strange shit here. And here.

I feel so... inspired!

(but I never saw a gherkin like that, they must grow some weird shit in Pomgolia.)

In synch

**groans loudly and pulls out a fresh tissue**

It's one of those days, one where something common and everyday takes me out back and beats the snot out of me with little warning, when a simple cold jumps in and takes advantage of a body recently immuno-suppressed (again) and yells "take that, bitch" loudly in my ear. Now it's in my lungs and ears, my back hurts when I breathe and I've rummaged the cupboard and found the last back-up antibiotic script and started on them and some painkillers. Thank God for a doc prepared to dispense ahead of time. Tomorrow will be a better day.


I'm off to bed and wallow in the warmth of wheatsacks and pills. Bliss...

Rchoo

**pulls out a fresh tissue, coughs, sneezes**

First were the big kids, then Ads. Now I've got a bloody cold, too on top of increasing MS-y bits. Isn't timing everything? It waits until exams, new meds and depleted and shonky immune systems are low to come visit our house.  And I had to spend all today day running around for Ads blood tests, 2 hospital outpatients appointments, shopping, pick up kid in sick bay...

I need a holiday. At home. With no car and no need for one.

Agave Maria

**pulls out a fresh tissue, dabs a bit of blood**

I was pottering around in Little Arbor tying up the grape vine this afternoon, when I had a sudden urge to plant poppies, all colours. Lots and lots of poppies. And agaves; those huge, sharp ones that everyone with a functioning braincell gives a wide berth to.


(nicked from google)

Along the bottom of the bank, yeah? and maybe a couple of strategically placed ones down behind the bamboo. To keep the undesirables out. Then there's finding somewhere for all the rose cuttings that appear to have struck and building the new arbor extension, the mini-tank stand and moving the big clump of Watsonias. There's another white grape baby coming, too, cos I swapped 2 small pieces of sheet stainless for it with Muzz yesterday.

Anyway, all that thinking was rather tiring so I went and sat in the big swing seat we finally got around to hanging at the far end of Big Arbor (another bit of shit cleaned up). The one I have tuned to the perfect height to be able to sit in and rock without quite touching the ground unless I want to. Adam says it's too high off the ground - I said it's lucky not everything's about him, then. And so I sat and I rocked... and rocked... and thought about my numb hand and foot and how much worse the burning is lately.

Damn it's nice out there with the bamboo crashing high above one in the wind.

PS can some one find my motivation, please? I think I've left it somewhere... maybe over by the bamboo?

Phrase of the Day: "Oh no, that can't be good".

Unsanctioned

**pulls out a fresh tissue, balls it up and chucks it**

I spent some considerable time today cleaning up Deb's web site after someone cracked the site and added hidden content designed to be picked up by Google to the bottom of the code of every html page. The referring link from the Google search that made the hit showed that there is an Auckland site been done over as well.

Five minutes, just 5 is all I want alone with the motherless little bastard who thinks this shit is funny. When I'm finished with the baseborn one, I'll turn him over to Nush.



She likes a bit of tenderised and sun-ripened flesh to chew on.

PS - that's the dregs of her second trotter from the Pork Post the other week that she's chewing there. It smells fucking awful divine.

Baracking

**pulls out a fresh tissue and sniffs**

I don't do politics, as you know, but if I did, I might feel that a good decision was made at the polls in the US today. There is something about Barack Obama, and about his Speech.



And I don't even really like Americans...

Big Ups, Barack Obama. Big Ups.

Hmm

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Today wasn't a very good day - I'm still very sore. And numb.

Ok, that's all.

Hate dat

**pulls out 3 fresh tissues**

I got a real hate on for the world today. Damn straight I do.

I finished the medrol yesterday morning. I had the breathing problems and palpitations but they weren't too bad. I got a bit of sleep last night and I woke up this morning feeling as if I was drowning. So I got up.

As you do.

But I couldn't open my eyes properly and I was a bit confused and unsteady and unable to get a deep breath so opted for a day of doing sweet fuck all. Which is exactly what I did - I slept most of it. My head and neck, face, throat, shoulders and back feel bruised like I have taken a beating; I'm glum and sad, uncoordinated and twitchy and nearly cut my finger off cooking dinner but worst of all, the spasms are back in my legs and the pins and needles are in my arms and hands. Already. Some days there is no point in wondering "Why"; getting from one end to the other takes more strength than I have.

I won't write off the Medrol yet, though, not until I've had time to get down off it and settle into routine again. Maybe things will calm down a bit. You just never know ya luck...

Oh lookee

**pulls out another fresh tissue**

It's 4.38am and here we are. Well here I am, anyway *waves at all the sleeping buggers*

Nearly done

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

One more dose, just 5 more bitter tasting tablets and the steroids will be done. I am kind of looking forward to it, especially the possibility of a decent run of sleep cos last night's allocation from 1.30 to 4.45 was not long enough by half. The past few days, I have been suffering with some racing pulse and breathlessness but hadn't read the right fact sheet online, nor been warned that it was something that should be reported to a doc, so I didn't bother. After overdoing things today (taxi service to the Mount; 2 x driving lessons for 17 year olds; cleaning up around the garden; planting a camellia; pulling weeds and dumping stuff; cleaning up after dinner, a snooze was a nice change and I'm looking forward to repeating it in a few minutes. I might even go so far as to take it easy tomorrow, too.

But despite being wired and fried, breathless and pulsating and wide awake when everyone else is asleep (except Sequel, cos she works nights) it appears at this point that it has taken 7 years to find an potential tool in the MS arsenal that isn't worse than the disease it's treating - at least in the short term.

And a very timely tool it was, too, but Medrol at 1000mg/day is not something to want to have to need on a frequent basis so I think I might aim for a quiet summer enjoying the garden instead of building it.

That would make a nice change, hmmm?

Day 3

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

As Day 3 rolls into Day 4 of the steroids, I am finally slowing down. I slept 5 odd hours last night instead of only 2 or 3; I got tired doing stuff outside and lost all motivation to push myself because of some Go-To-Hell indigestion like a huge meal just consumed which doesn't quite fit the available space. Even when you haven't eaten. Or like a baby kicking your stomach into your lungs @ nine months pregnant when you've just eaten a tiny plate of Christmas Dinner.

Now I want chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

Stupid me, I put a sign on the front door saying "Trick or Treaters will be hung in the trees to feed the Bats" to keep the lil fuckers away should they wander down this far tonight and all that time I should have been inviting them in and mugging them for their chocolate.

Happy Halloween, my good left tit.

Speaking of Halloween, they had this utterly HUGE spider at the Red Shed the other day and dayam, but I wanted it. I could have draped it over the front porch in the dark and put a Party Here sign out on the road frontage and really enjoyed tormenting entertaining the dear wee ones by inserting solar lights with red film over them into the eye sockets.

That's not too twisted, is it? Really? I suppose I could let them keep half their chocolate - the half of each one I don't eat....

Calling time

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

It's 1.35am and I am going to snuggle up with my cards, my wheat sacks and read Deb's copy of Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now.

I'm struggling with it a bit, but that might be because it's causing a major shift in my inner Being paradigm.

Or it might be over-adulterated crap like Conversations With God.

It's a bit like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - but without the motorbike, or the scenery. Well, not so far, anyway.

Another sticky situation

I have a sticky one that I haven't managed to solve on the Linux box - every time I log on my IM app it loads an old MSN contact list that still has deleted people on it. If I re-delete them and log it off and back on they are gone, but next reboot they are back. Must be a quirk in that IM version. Half a brain would tell me to stop it running at boot time but I'm usually trashy on PAMS (and now the new shit) etc when I log on upstairs and forget all about it until I'm safely downstairs again and on the "doze box. Like now.

Speaking of sticky, what's brown and sticky? A Sticky is!

Yes, we have a new Sticky!







I like Stickies. I hope he stays around for a while, he can keep me company pottering in the arbor while I'm not well enough to do anything useful.

And speaking of arbors... the grape vine isn't even 10% leafed up yet and already it's got baby bunches all over it. It's only 3 weeks out of bud.

Between the garden, the arbor, the new planned arbor extension, the BBQ and a harvest like is shaping up, it could be a grape summer. If I stay out of the sun - we aren't friends at the moment.

What a difference 12 months brings - in every way. This time last year I was pumping on all cylinders with everything to get out of bed for and now the biggest thing that mattered is gone and I'm just going through the motions.

Today I slept from 1-5.15 pm - longer than I slept all of last night. In the end I couldn't settle until after 4am and was awake again at 6.45, but exhaustion overcame steroids this afternoon and tonight's dose has me wide awake and the stereo cranked up a bit while I decide whether I really want to de-clutter the dining room at 12.30am or work on a web site with fuzzy eyesight, or just fuck about until boredom sets in and sends me to bed...

And etc

This morning I kicked the kids out of bed and got them into the car to school late and then I went to physio at the hospital and then I went to the Red Shed and showed restraint by only buying more or less what I came for and then I went to the supermarket and kinda did the same thing there and then I went to the other supermarket to get Nushie tucker and then I drove home and I brought the groceries in from the car and then I dragged out the big extension cord and mowed the lawn before the rain came - all of it end to end - and then I went to pick up Adam at 12.45 before coming home and tidying up until it was time to throw a jersey on over my gardening clothes and race into the hospital pharmacy for the third time today and back through the 3pm Mummy rush to pick up H who finished early so that I could come home and take some painkillers and crawl into bed with a pounding headache and a throbbing bulging eye and a wheat sack and after a long snooze I went to the supermarket to buy Ads some milk and stopped for a yak with the Old Boy for half an hour before heading home to eat a late dinner and harass the Crazy Quasi Lesbian Lady upstairs (henceforth to be known as CQLL or 'Sequel') after chatting to Flattie on MSN and taking the first dose of my oral methylprednisolone @ 500mg twice a day for five days. And then I got stuck into a new website that needs doing asap. It's nearly 2am and I'm a bit tired now.

As we got out of the car at home this afternoon, H says "Did you know your jersey is on inside out?". I said "I'm so fucked it's lucky my pants are on the right way around".

And then I checked that they were, just in case.

As you do...

H says "Hillbilly".

All this on a bad day. No wonder I'm sick, my candle flames hath meteth in the middle methinks and all but snuffed out and there wasn't even a rusty knight riding a pig on a spit to rescue me. I wonder if there is a windmill nearby to practice tilting on? I'm leaning towards "no"...

Telling porkies

Nush used to dine on piggie bits back in her farm girl days and loved pigs trotters and pigs heads and other assorted porcine things (they go great with rotting possum, I suppose), so I bought her a packet of common or garden domestic pork trotters from the supermarket a few weeks ago. I gave her one; she sniffed. She sniffed again. She mouthed and licked and spat it out, declaring it unfit for canine consumption.

I was gob smacked, how could she not like fresh pigs feet?

So yesterday, when Glorious gave us some home killed bacon, a bacon hock and a couple of trotters, I nearly binned them thinking Nush wouldn't bother.

She bothered all right. She gave one a good going over yesterday afternoon, before leaving it to mature through a night's winds and a morning's hot sun and at lunch time sat down with clean paws and bib tied to feast upon her treasure. Through most of the afternoon. And this evening. She only stopped because it was getting dark and cold and Nush had noshed herself into a state of doggie satisfaction.

I guess it's true, our domestic market produced pork is so bad that even the dog won't eat it.

Truth is a funny thing and I was thinking about it whilst sorting out the last bits of the vege garden this afternoon (as you do). What is THE truth? Is it the same as OUR Truth? Truth is just a subjective thing that carries the weight of personal experience or personal belief based on a million different things, isn't it? Is it not a living, breathing, dynamic thing?

We hold our truths inside; they guide us, they shape our world. We inhale the truth of the world around us, identify and filter out pieces that mesh with and update our own opinions and exhale the remnants of ideas or ideals altered and in doing so grow a little every time we open ourselves up to change. If we don't change, we don't grow. Well, grow up, anyway.

My truths are simple. I am Fabulous, Darling. OK so I'm fat and sick and old and poor and not much to look at on a good day and rather blunt, opinionated and forthright (that's a nice way of saying assertive, which is a nice was of saying stroppy) but I have a wacky sense of humour, can carry a monologue with flair, have nice hair and the tooth all the teeth I have left are my own and sometimes I can be quite sensible and helpful (even more than I am bluntly, opinionatedly and forthrightly assertive in a stroppy sort of way) and if the Simons of this world can't handle it, that's their problem.

Isn't it?

But the truth is that, even being this fucking terrific, I still get to spend my life alone. There is no knight in shining armour on a white steed coming to save me because someone ate his bloody horse when the pork they bought from the supermarket wasn't fit even for the dog. You know, it's no fun being sick all by oneself, even when the drugs are good (which most of them aren't) and that's one Truth I hold to be self-evident.

Of course, I believe in UFOs and justice for all, too.

Whoever said Life would be fulfilling and nurturing was no doubt lying and probably raised pigs.

Strangely enough

I was just about to upload and post the following pics when something really weird happened - FireFox crashed.

OK so I've seen it fall over a few times before, but this is the first time I have seen a message box pop up saying "We are sorry that FireFox has crashed, we will attempt to restore your sessions on restart" or something similar. I immediately thought to myself "Who the hell are THEY and what do they mean that THEY are fucking sorry? They were my sessions that crashed!

What was wrong with a box saying "Ooops, looks like we done gone fuck up again, we'll be right back after you restart all your shit and we attempt to bother retrieving your so rudely terminated sessions for you". Of course, that would be more the Linux type of error message like "Kernal panic" and "dazed and confused but trying to proceed". MY personal fav from that list today is "You can’t do that in horizontal mode." I don't get to do fuck all in horizontal mode.

Speaking of confused, the cops and the dog handler waltzed through the paddock about lunchtime today and didn't stop to say hello. They must have been anxious to catch up with someone, possibly the person who parked this



on the soggy side of the park after jumping a few posts on the way in.

I heard a lot of clanking down the bank so the kids and I, including this big sook



went out to watch as one of Huck's boys pulled it out. Very exciting *yawns*.

Nushie is all sad because the Big Sook has gone home now after 10 days holidaying here and she misses him, so she took my chair off me this evening. Then Tommy took it off her.



I'm not stupid enough to argue with that, he's not really a pussycat.

There was something else I was going to say but I'm carrying double PAMS on board tonight and I can't remember.

Your reprieve - for now

A file that big?
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.

Let battle commence

Today was neuro day at Outpatients and after a long session with his registrar, I got 15 minutes with The Man to discuss my MonSters active status, overdue MRI films, new symptoms, steroids, DHBs who shit in their own nest and deny their patients treatment options, how to attempt to get around said DHBs and their tanties and why not falling down the stairs is a really good thing. The registrar admired the big bruise on my left knee and ran through a whole bunch of tests. The nurse did the whole blood pressure/weigh in stuff and we discussed natural pest control in the garden and why don't men have handbags cos God knows some of them need 'em.

Outcome? Possible referral to a new neurology locum coming to a hospital near me, long term ideas on how to maintain current medical personnel status quo and a long weekend taking Losec to prepare my tummy for the onslaught of my first 5-day course of high dose oral steroids on Tuesday (as opposed to IV ones which would be a pain in the bum, or hand, or something and turn the whole house upside down while I was hooked up as an in-patient).

The Man ran through a few of the expected physical fallout issues the steroids commonly present at this dosage like upset tummy, "wired" 24/7 and can't sleep (the opposite of the return to MS utter fatigue that I've had again for a few weeks now), fluid retention and weight gain, blurry vision and the high odds that I could turn into the bitch from Hell for a week or two, the latter of which Ads says might be hard to tell the difference anyway. With selling points like that, how could I possibly turn them down? Especially when he said he hoped I'd gain at least 3 and maybe 6 months of settled symptoms and a lessening or disappearance of the latest round of new symptoms that currently have me so worried.

And very worried I've been.

All this and he's a total sweetie too - what more could a girl ask for from her neurologist?

PS The registrar was a she, not a he and very nice she was, too.

Politically speaking

I don't do politics, as you probably know.



Did you get it? Heather got it straight away but I didn't.

While you are pondering that, see whether you are as valuable as you think.

$5190.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

Better get ya chequebook out, I don't come cheap!

See how many died the day YOU were born

125,534 People

FYI 121,671 another people died the same day as the Music did.

See whether your geek factor is slipping like mine is

59% Geek

and see whether you can think of more colours than me - it shouldn't be too hard...

31

and for posterity, these are the ones I could think of:

Aqua, Black, Blue, Bronze, Brown, Cerise, Chartreuse, Coral, Cream, Gold, Green, Grey, Khaki, Lavender, Lemon, Maroon, Ochre, Orange, Peach, Pink, Puce, Purple, Red, Salmon, Sapphire, Silver, Tan, Tangerine, Violet, White, Yellow

and these are the ones I missed...

Alice blue, Alizarin, Amaranth, Amber, Amethyst, Apricot, Aquamarine, Asparagus, Auburn, Azure, Baby blue, Beige, Bistre, Blue green, Blue violet, Bondi blue, Brass, Bright green, Bright turquoise, Brilliant rose, Buff, Burgundy, Burnt orange, Burnt sienna, Burnt umber, Camouflage green, Caput Mortuum, Cardinal, Carmine, Carnation pink, Carrot orange, Celadon, Cerulean, Cerulean blue, Chartreuse yellow, Chestnut, Chocolate, Cinnabar, Cinnamon, Cobalt, Copper, Copper rose, Coral red, Corn, Cornflower blue, Cosmic latte, Crimson, Cyan, Dark blue, Dark brown, Dark cerulean, Dark chestnut, Dark coral, Dark goldenrod, Dark green, Dark khaki, Dark pastel green, Dark pink, Dark salmon, Dark slate gray, Dark spring green, Dark tan, Dark tangerine, Dark turquoise, Dark violet, Deep cerise, Deep fuchsia, Deep lilac, Deep magenta, Deep peach, Denim, Dodger blue, Ecru, Electric blue, Electric green, Electric indigo, Electric lime, Electric purple, Emerald, Eggplant, Falu red, Fern green, Flax, Forest green, French Rose, Fuchsia, Fuchsia Pink, Gamboge, Golden brown, Golden yellow, Goldenrod, Grey asparagus, Green yellow, Han Purple, Harlequin, Heliotrope, Hollywood Cerise, Hot Magenta, Hot Pink, Indigo, Klein Blue, Islamic green, Ivory, Jade, Kelly green, Lemon chiffon, Light blue, Lilac, Lime, Linen, Magenta, Malachite, Maya blue, Mauve, Mauve Taupe, Medium blue, Medium carmine, Medium purple, Midnight Blue, Mint Green, Misty rose, Moss green, Mountbatten pink, Mustard, Navajo white, Navy Blue, Old Gold, Old Lace, Old Lavender, Old Rose, Olive, Olive Drab, Olivine, Orange Peel, Orange Red, Orchid, Pale blue, Pale brown, Pale carmine, Pale chestnut, Pale cornflower blue, Pale magenta, Pale pink, Pale red violet, Papaya whip, Pastel green, Pastel pink, Peach orange, Peach yellow, Pear, Periwinkle, Persian blue, Persian green, Persian indigo, Persian red, Persian pink, Persian rose, Persimmon, Pine Green, Pink orange, Powder blue, Prussian blue, Psychedelic purple, Pumpkin, Raw umber, Red violet, Robin egg blue, Rose, Rose Taupe, Royal blue, Royal purple, Russet, Rust, Safety Orange, Saffron, Sandy brown, Sangria, Scarlet, School bus yellow, Sea Green, Seashell, Selective yellow, Sepia, Shamrock green, Shocking Pink, Sky Blue, Slate grey, Smalt, Spring bud, Spring green, Steel blue, Tangerine yellow, Taupe, Tea Green, Tea rose, Teal, Tenne, Terra cotta, Thistle, Turquoise, Tyrian purple, Ultramarine, Vermilion, Viridian, Wheat, Wisteria, Zinnwaldite

Caput Mortuum? Mummy never taught me that one!

Happy landings

I'm the only person I know who can fall down the bloody stairs (well the bottom two) carrying a computer and not only not hit my head, but not break anything and not drop or bang the computer (not my computer, either, it's the neighbours wot needed a scrub and hose down after the bloke ended up at hotcams.com, amongst others, while looking for a new hot cam for the stockcar that's due on the track next weekend... yeah, sure, *Tui* haha sprung ya, ya grubby bastard).

Of course, there probably aren't too many stupid buggers like me who carry computers downstairs.

Apart from being shaken (not stirred) and having a couple of sore knees and some rather bruised big toes (*shrug* toes?) I think I'm fine. Damn fine *struts like a 95 year old*.

I should have known better - I fell down them same treads nearly 20 years ago when the house was being built. That was before I fell down our ones at home and ripped my knee apart.

No wonder I don't like heights - it's not the fall that kills you, it's the stop at the bottom.

Sacked

I cannot tell a lie; my downfall is toast. It's the universal fodder, innit? Sweet, savoury, neutral (but not carbon neutral, not if it's done right), toast is the one thing appropriate to any time of the day or topping of choice.

Except maybe sardines. Horrible things, I never could get to like those.

But while I was just making my toast and deciding what to have on it, I got to thinking (I heard that groan) just how much for granted we take toast. We trot down the road and buy a loaf of bread. If we are feeling flash we get Vogels or some heavily naturalised loaf product in a fancy brown wrapper. If we are feeling impoverished, we might buy cheaper than chips budget loaf. When I was a kid, Nana used to order a white baracuta which came with a piece of brown paper around its tummy before we exchanged it for ours; if we were lucky Mum might buy us a tank loaf. Later on, she would send us to the shop 3 miles away, on horseback to buy bread at the weekend; she must have known full well that we would eat half of it by the time we got home. I guess it was cheap entertainment to get us safely out of her hair. And it worked.

A few thousand years ago would have been different and in wondering how cooking bread to make toast was discovered, I figured out found out that some Caveman must have accidentally dropped the pre-packaged bread mix into the river (hence the hunter/gatherer label thereafter given to men because they sucked at growing wheat) then burnt it whilst drying it out that night. The name "toast" is thought to come from a mispronunciation of his reply to his wife when she scolded him - "toss it" although there is a school of thought that thinks perhaps it was a misheard translation of her shouting the word "Tosser" at him. Either way, toast is terrific. Get yourself some today!

Speaking of wheat, my hot wheat sacks are all ready and in bed with the cat. Time to go!

Grubby

I've been pottering in my room tonight, cleaning it when I suddenly realised that I hadn't cleaned it in a year. Oh, it's been dusted and vacuumed and tidied, but not all at the same time - it needed cleaning and if ya don't know the difference, you probably haven't cleaned yours, either. There's nothing like being bombed on meds to point out the obvious, eh.

Speaking of meds, I am going to see the neuro's registrar next week and will have a chat to him about the pins and needles in my arms and hands and the numbness in my fingers and toes. Maybe he has some new, magical meds that target the MS instead of the Host for a change, cos God knows I need more drugs, new drugs.

Actually, there are lots of things I need and provision by the Universe of a few of them would mean I didn't need any drugs at all.

I had another thought too but I've forgotten what it was. Oh hang on, I remember. I was thinking about the apparently low IQ J. Public suffers from and thinking that some of them work in industries making up stupid labels for common things that are just ridiculous, specifically, in this case, the label "occasional furniture". Now the rational part of me knows that such furniture is so named because it can be moved and used as the occasion demands, but the other, larger bit of my brain wonders what the fuck the occasional furniture is when it's not being furniture? A car? Like, how many metres/foam squab does a chair do these days, anyway? But then I said to myself, "self", I said, "who is dumber, the person who makes up the label or the drones who perpetuate the mistake by using it?" and I replied "neither, it's anyone who thought that I would have an interesting thought while cleaning my room at 11pm on a Friday night, bombed on meds.

Gotcha!

Dance of the seven wails

For many years, the quote "Give me a child of seven and I'll give you the man" has been attributed to the Jesuits. A quick bit of Googling suggests that this is potentially the opposite of what was originally proposed and that

"The primary source for the origin of the idea of the quotation…is the Ratio Studiorum, a sixteenth century document composed by Jesuits describing the characteristics and structure of Jesuit education."

Seven seems to ace with the Archangels; big with Buddha; churr to the Cherokee; mainstream in Mythology; serious in Sport and in Christianity is everything from the Seven Joys of the Virgin to the Seven Deadly Sins and just like sex six is a natural number. Seven is the primo example of Ancient Wonder and also a part of the title of an awesome song covered by the Eagles.

It's also the age when our babies stop being little kids and start being big kids with a life of their own, thinking and acting independent of their parents. I think I can apply that concept to MonSters, too.

This coming year is looking a little scary - it remains to be seen whether it's scary-good or scary-bad...

Happy birthday, MonSter, let's forgo the pills and jiggle the night away.