The images I have are scattered. Some seem to be absolutely surreal, and others seem nightmarish, beyond belief.
On the other hand, (as 'they' say) there are some non~shattering images, to seek comfort and joy in the knowledge, there is still happiness, and there is still joy.
The family is welcoming the birth and health of our latest edition, the "Inuit Princess" as her father likes to call her.
Here she is with her doting Granddad, my Beloved Brother.
I have these out of sequence, but here is the Princess, just after her birth, with her 'big' brother, and adoring Dad.
This was taken about 4 weeks ago, with her gorgeous Mum.
This is the latest pic I have, of the gorgeous Princess, taken -& stolen by me- by her Aunty M.
And these two family members have just announced their Engagement. Proud Uncle and Aunt.
******************
Scattered thoughts of "Home" which will always be New Zealand.
This beautiful Home, built in the Marlborough area of NZ. Designed by the owner, Beautiful K, who helped build it all.
The is a view to make me homesick! Those rolling New Zealand Hills!
I just love this fireplace, with river stones, carefully chosen and set, to make this glorious fire-surround. And... after all, what is a fireplace, without a loved Cat?
I Wish!!
I hope you don't mind me using your beautiful home, to help me feel hope, K.
*****
Family, friends, and neighbours help me keep going.
Al Fresco dining has it's hazards, as copulating flies, plummet headlong into one's cup or Peppermint Tea.
Bugger!!
A fresh cup is requested, and delivered.
The damn teapot lid lands into the fresh cup!!
Bugger, again!
I guess, I was not meant to have Peppermint Tea that day.
My friend almost fell off her chair laughing,...& why not?
We needed the laughs.
Winter has arrived, and we are shivering through very cold nights.
My little Honey keeps me warm, snuggling under the covers.
Poor old Blog, you are sadly neglected.
I have nothing cheery to write about, so decided to just leave well alone.
BTW when did they change this format for writing a post? It seems disconcerting, somehow. (Yes, yes, I am a fussbudget, who has discovered rather late in life, I hate change! Unless I am warned, or previously notified of said changes)
However, I have been moved to have a rant!!
I go to a local pool, a warm gentle exercise pool, open to the public.
Like myself, a lot of elderly, arthritic, or just plain aching people use this pool on a daily basis.
I have found it beneficial to both my body and my state of mind. The calm and the heat lend a very healing quality to both body and mind. Like minded souls can interact, or just remain private, which is my preferance.
My rant concerns the Yummy Mummies who have decided of late, that a good way to get out, is to take their screaming wriggling shouting splashing little offspring to the pool.
The Yummy Mummy brigade arrive, bearing wriggling, squealing, sceaming and often, bawling, toddlers and babies. The YMs proceed to shed their outer clothing, thereby exposing their newest full back tattoo, or the their shoulder tatts, or worse yet, their hideous bum-crack tattoos.
Why? Why?
Then the cacophanous noise level swells out of all proportion to the space in which the pool is located. It reaches deafening levels as piercing shrieks rend the air.
Meanwhile, Mummy looks on in dotage, as the shrieker splashes desperately, or leaps crashingly, from the side of the pool, despite signs declaring this is a Gentle Exercise Pool. There is to be no Splashing. no Jumping from the sides of the pool.
It seems evident that: a) the YMs are unable to read.
or,: b) these rules do not apply to them.
Curmudgeonly grouch that I am, I complained one day, and recieved my money back. Small consolation, as it still continues, and even though I know we need to share, in this world, I dont see why we need to share when there is and are, facilities for all other people.
There is a perfectly good heated pool, just for the children and parents or teachers.
There is another perfectly good heated pool where the older 'challenged' with their odd splashing, rough behaviour, and uncontrolled movements, can be taken for exercise and water therapy.
I have specifically asked on occasion, if the disabled children/adults are in the pool, before I enter and pay my money. I am quite happy to not attend when the pool is required for the disabled or the 'challenged' or even the YM brigade.
I am not alone in this resentment, and have had several dark and muttered conversations with others, who like me, are aged and grumpy, and are seeking a solace from either mental, or physical pain.
I guess I just need to toughen up, and choose odd hours, when presumably, these people who are not in need of gentle exercise, are not in the pool.
I also realise I may incur the ire of a parent of a disabled child or challenged child.
All I ask, is peace and space and quiet.
************
For any of you who are wondering about my son.
Unfortunately his leg has been amputated and the final diagnosis was Sarcoma of the foot.
It has had a devastating effect on my son, and he is struggling to come to terms with his loss and grief.
He is no longer in the City Hospital, but has been transferred to a Hospital in our region. It seems the Hospital system, and it's supposed Suppot systems, are all broke, and broken. We fight to get any information - including prognosis, plan of recovery, support, medical information. NO assistance from the Cancer Council, apart from one phone call. This gained at the instigation of a friend, who suffered cancer herself, and knows the devastation and grief it all causes the whole family.
My son feels he is in 'The Badlands', and I am inclined to agree. Yesterday it took me almost an hour on the phone to elicit the name of the Specialist, under which my son has been transferred, where he is currently situated.
This person had told my son that he has been given the second worst type of amputation wound, for fitting a prosthesis.
What kind of madness would possess someone in the medical profession to say such a thing to a very distressed vulnerable and fragile person??
This is partly the reason I wished to speak to this person. This Specialist I was told, was 'not at the Hospital today'.
I feel as if I am going completely insane. Perhaps it explains my despair about the pool.
I have to keep trying to laugh at idiocy, at incompetence, at damned indifference to the human side of cancer, and amputation.
What purpose is served sending an amputee, to speak to my son, who advises all medications they are giving are wicked and e,vil and have unspeakable side effects?
No wonder I feel as if I need to go and throttle something, or kick something... or just get blind drunk.
How can I express the way I feel.
There are no words.
We are still hanging in limbo.
It seems there is no conclusive diagnosis.
Some things have been ruled out...which is great.
On the other hand- or foot, if you like- there is no real answer to the problem.
As a Mother, who firmly believes, and always has, that this is NOT a cancer, I keep the faith, and hope for the magic bullet that will shrink this terrible tumour, and save my son's foot, and therefore leg, from needless amputation.
As many of my friends know, I am an atheist. I do not have a god I worship or believe in. My friends who do, have prayed and cared for us, and I thank them for their beliefs and wishes.
Events in my life have decided my beliefs, but I never deny or disregard, or disrespect, other's beliefs. We are all entitled to our own paths, and beliefs.
I do thank you all, for your caring thoughts, and I do beileve they can have an effect.
Michael Bolton, How am I Supposed to live without you.
We have been to Sydney, for diagnosis.
There is actually none.
The Biopsy has been taken, and the results, are nondecisive. No one can determine what the tumour is, or whether it is benign or malignant.
We stayed at a Hotel which is supposedly 'friendly' for discounting Hospital visitors. I don't really regard a $2 a night discount as 'friendly'.
However, the room we were allocated had microwave and cooktop facilites.
The downside was, there were NO utensils for cooking anything, either on cooktops, nor in microwaves. No plates, no cutlery, no saucepans, containers.
I used a teaspoon to eat my ghastly microwaved meal- from the plastic container.
The second room we were allocated, had none of the above facilities, and it also had a cracked handbasin, which I regard as highly dangerous re germs and infection.
Back to the reason for our stay. My son's foot is seemingly malignant. An overnight stay, with a biopsy, was performed. Full anaesthetic, and recovery stay in Hospital.
Specialist says his gut says it is malignant. Tests are inconclusive.
It seems my son's condition is so rare, noone can figure it out.
Now they are suggesting melanoma. A seconday cancer site, in the foot.
Preposterous, really, as the full body PET scan shows no evidence of any other tumours, or abnomal cells in the body. A Plus, for sure!
The Specialist doubts the melanoma theory, with good reason.
We have been adivised that, either way, my Son will lose his foot and leg.
To me, as his mother, it just seems such a drastic thing, especially when I dont think it is really cancer, I cannot begin to contemplate such a thing.
I seem to be wearing a psychic sign on my head, announcing to the Universe, "Sh!t on Me!!!" Or, maybe it is a sign on my back that says "KICK ME!! I Am Down Already, so I cant get lower!"
Who knows what lies ahead. I just hope I can be there to support my Son.
In the next two days, we will find out good, or bad news. Or perhaps, hopeful news.
I am holding the faith the news won't be as bad as we suspect it could be.
There is a special type of terror, in waiting for medical diagnosis, and ultimate prognosis.
I fear the bottom line is, the medical profession don't really know. Not their fault, just the state of medicine.
I remember my Grandmother's remedies. Not so silly, in today's newly dawning world of natural treatments, and cures.
How wonderful has Aspirin 'suddenly' become?
But is it artificially made, or is it the original plant product?
What is real, or believable any more?
Good friends, such as those who called today, are real. They are believable.
Family are real and they are believable also.
*************
My son and I rescued, last Thursday, two small dogs, who had been roaming our streets all day. It was dusk, and we feared they may be hit by cars. Plus the dogs seemed weary, and had obviously tired, of their day's adventures.
I dubbed them Mister Shaggy, and Mister Smooth.
We put them into our car, and took them off to our local, friendly, Vet Clinic.
They were such lovely little boys, and very friendly, and obviously well cared for.
As I went to pick up the little guy, Mr Smooth, with the tan and cream fur, he became panicked and nipped me on the face.
Now, I am sporting a very large, & ugly, bruise on my face!
I rang the Vet's, next day, to see if the rascals had been microchipped, and collected. Vet's nurse told me they are well known, and had gone home. She also told me that Mr Smooth is going blind, and he often nips the staff, at Vet Clinic.
They had been collected, and it seems they are renowned runaways. They come from a family of five dogs! (Lucky owners!)
They are the only two who make a run for it!
This evening there was a knock on our door, and there was Mister Shaggy, with a strange man.
"Is this your dog?" he asked my son, as Mr Shaggy went into raptures over Son. He then told us that Mr Shaggy had spent the day running over the road to our house, and back across the road to his, Mr Stranger's, house.
I hope the little guy is ok. He is very affectionate, and very lovable. Rescue man said he would put him in the backyard with his little dog, so I hope there is no conflict.
We could not take him, as we are off to the City tomorrow.
It seems there are no free treats for me at present.
I am struggling so hard.
It seems life has not finished dealing me blows.
I remember, a friend once told me, "It is hard to feel depressed, when your eyes are looking upward."
I keep searching the sky, the horizon, for hope, for peace, for strength.
I am going to need all the help I can get, and all the strength I can find, to live through this, next, terrible time.
It seems my world contains nothing, but Life's Cruel Blows.
Some beautiful friends, who are aware of my sorrow and sadness made this beautiful video for me.
I cried when I saw it, and feel blessed and so touched to know I have such beautiful, caring friends.
The great news is, my BB- Beloved Brother, - is now the very proud Grandfather of a little girl.
Welcome to the world Sofia, and Welcome to our Family!
Here she is with her Mum and Dad, just after her arrival.
I am told Sofia has thick black hair, unlike her older brother, who arrived with very blond hair. As Grandpa Arpi said, it may all rub off- or not!
I know everyone in the family is so happy at this little girl's safe arrival. I wish I could be there to give them all a huge hug.
Sofia will be a very lucky little girl, with her diverse heritage. I hope her life is long an happy, and filled with love, and happiness.
*******
This is a free treat, from the week past.
A lovely young Magpie, who seemed to regard our balcony railing as a safe landing.
It was, indeed.
He/she turned to look, at who might be taking pictures of it's royal self.
It was raining, and we decided the feather fluff, was to combat the wet!
**************
This was a recent evening sky scape.
A little threatening, perhaps. It proved to be all threat, and no action, thank goodness.
Another evening pic, with, to me, the worry lines of the day, written in the clouds.
I missed the following evening's pics, with the soft pink blush of the cloud-cheeks of the evening. The gentle promise, in the soft hue, of the lovely day to follow.
We have had no Summer, as we know it, but I have enjoyed the lack of heat, and mostly, the lack of humidity. It is a strange 'Summer', in that we have had so much hard rain, and cloudy outlook, it has hardly seemed to be a 'Summer season', in many ways.
I am not a believer of "Global Warmimg" as positedf by some. I am a beliiever of climate change, which is a natural reccuring event in the evolution of the Planet Earth. It has happened mamy times before, and will happen many times again, in the history of this planet.
I know man's impress with Carbon emissions are damaging, but I also feel, it is like a gnat's f*rt in the evolution of the Earth. I could go on, boringly, but I will not.
****************
***Please avert your eyes, if you are squeamish or can't stand ugly!!***
In other hideous events, I have possibly, broken a toe. An empty glass bottle landed on the top of my big toe, and the resultant pain, agony, and bruising have been quite spectacular! Haha!
However, the good news is, the pool visits, whilst being beneficial to the dratted knee, also seem to have been remedial/curative for the toe, so it is all win win!
Over the past months, since Gom died, I have had much time to dwell on the subject. It seems my mind got trapped in a timewarp, and I was unable to stop re-running our lives together in the past.
The reality of his having gone, and never coming back, was too much for me to accept, somehow. My whole life seemed to be meaningless, and platitudes such as those given by well meaning friends and professionals, held no comfort. In fact they only seemed to rub salt into wounds I could not bear.
To try to make this lighter, I have interspersed it with some meaningless~or maybe not so meaningless~ pics.
So, if you dont feel like reading, just look at the pics. They represent life, and fresh hope.
This is my current crop of parsely, a measly plant by comparison to previous crops, but nonetheless, delicious.
I am a great lover of herbs, and most of my meals contain some of one type or another.
On with the thoughts of Death.
When my mother died, fifteen years ago now, I felt I could never recover from my loss. Of course, you never do 'recover', you just learn to live with the loss and the grief. Your mind adjusts to the fact that the person is no longer here. Her memory lives on inside me, and I hear her voice daily, and often see her face.
Before her death, I was lucky enough to be able to stay with her and take care of her at her home. She had had a dread of a 'Home' or Hospital, and so we enjoyed much time together, talking of old days and reminiscing about family and our life events.
When she got closer to dying, (though I did not realise at the time how little time she had left,) she began to have a series of dreams. I will not retell those dreams here, but I know they brought her great comfort ~and indeed, wonder, about death. Like me, she had been an Atheist all her life, but somehow the dreams would appear to contradict her beliefs. I know there is an explanation, but I won't discuss that here.
She began to retell the story of her life, she told me, and wondered if she was keeping me awake at night, with her voice. She said she retold her school days, and her life with her brothers when they were children. She told stories of her beloved father and mother, and I do believe she moved on as the timeline of her life had moved on.
I did hear her talking, but had not realised it was the story of her life, she was telling, or I would have gone to listen. Much of her life had been very sad, and her joyous patches mostly revolved around her family, children, and later, her grandchildren. Many of her heartaches involved family too, as they do in everyone's lives.
This is a self sown Thyme plant, which grows beside the clothes line, and it often gets brushed by the clothes basket, and releases it's lovely aroma, so fresh and inviting.
When my mother became too ill to be at home, I spent every minute I could, at her bedside, and we sat vigil as she died. It seemed cruel that she had to die in a Hospital, but she was so ill, and at least we all spent as much time as possible with her.
Though my grief is endless, I could never wish her back, for my selfish sake.
This is a pic of seeds on a very lovely cream Clivia. I know if my sister-in-law were here, she could get these to grow, but with my brown thumbs, I would not even try.
They do somehow represent life's longing to carry on, and reproduce itself.
After my mother had died, I had a craving for planting flowers and vegetables, growing things, and had a fair success. It seemed as though it was a way of denying death, to be able to give, and succour life in some form. I was too old for more children, which is often the way we handle the finality of death. I longed for another grandchild to hold and love, but it was not to be, at that time.
I thought of how Gom and I had reacted when his father died unexpectedly. We clung to each other, and our lovemaking was passionate, and desperate almost, as if to deny death. We absolutely cherished our children, and were comforted by their beings.
This is some delicious Smoked Salmon Bruschetta, prepared at home by my son. I made the balsamic reduction, for the dressing, and it was delicious. Perhaps not a 'delicious' looking dish, but it tastes divine. We use some basil and a little mint to add some zing.
Now, I come to Gom's passing. I thought I could never come to any sort of peace about his death. In the days before he died, he began to reminisce about 'the old days' and of our time together throughout the 45 years of our marriage. Occasionally I would become a little impatient, but then I began to be fearful, as I remembered my mother re-telling her life.
We had thought we had more time left together, but I wonder if some deep part of Gom knew that he was going, sooner, rather than later.
I still have patches of denial, I still have patches of almost unbearable grieving, and I know I always will. I have been lucky to have had a wonderful counsellor, who seemed to just lift a lot of my deep dark thoughts from me. I am not sure how, but we even had some deep laughs, in the course of our couselling sessions.
My son also convinced me to begin swimming, or Hydratherapy, really. I have found it astonishingly good for both my knee, and my spirit. At first I could not bear to talk to anyone.
I was asked if I would like to join the Arthritis Foundation. I recieved a very startled look when I said, emphatically, "No Thanks".
I am a non-joiner, and have lived long enough to know that that is OK. I have been that way for all my life, and am happy not to change now.
I don't want to stand waving my arms about above my head, like some gangly leafless tree! I dont want to do chicken clucking motions with hands in my armpits.
I am very happy, and well, doing my regular exercises for my knee, which have been so beneficial, I wish some bl**dy doctor had suggested it right from the start, after the operation.
I find I can now bear to talk to other swimmers, doing their exercises, and have even been told by a 'trainer,' or physiotherapist, that I give myself a good workout, and am doing well.
A gentle sunset, which preceded one of the most lovely days of summer we have had. It was a nice weekend, with rare sunshine, and lovely warm temperatures, without the horrible humidity.
I know I will always grieve over Gom.
I do wonder at the human spirit which somehow craves to live, even when all seems impossible.
I do wonder at the strength which seems to come from nowhere, to help us perhaps, begin to live on.
I have even done a little cooking, and now... hope to sew again!
This is going to play silly Bloggers with me again. I wanted the type to all align to the left, but it is not going to happen, since I have uploaded all the pics first.
On Sunday last, my Son B took me over to a beachside suburb, where there is a Market.
There were two Elvis lookalikes playing at the small stage in the Market. Sadly I did not take a photo of their extremely bad wigs, nor their white flared suits, complete with huge rhinestones~ and dark glasses.
I did, however take some pics of the Paradiso Resort. It has been here for many years, and has recently undergone a makeover, and I thought it is quite interesting, with murals, ornate doorways and wonderful stained glass windows.
Excuse the poor photography, the sun was shining on my camera, and I could not see what I was snapping, so it was a hit and miss affair.
There were several murals painted on this upper wall, and it is a shame I did not catch them all, as they are rather good.
I am assuming the balconies are from the apartment part of the complex. Look at those massive doors.
It all has rather a nice Spanish style to it, and it would have been even better with some beautiful guitar music playing!
Stained glass again.
This is one of my Bromeliads, with it's pretty pale pink bract, which has blue flowers. When I lived in New Zealand I wished I owned one of these, but they were far too expensive. Over here, these are almost growing wild in my garden. In fact I am thinking of giving some away.
Here is dear little Honey, in her Please mode. She has done this since she was very small, and it never fails to appeal and tug on my heartstrings.
Here she was, at the top of the stairs, probably waiting to ambush Morty, as they seem to have a running battle with each other. Not really friends!
I think he is scheming on how he can ambush Honey, by leaping off this table, onto her head!
This is the Oregano flowering, before the rain dampened it all down, and the flowers got drowned. We seem to have one or two warm to hot days, then the rain and dull clouds roll over again.
To combat all this, Son B has talked me into going swimming at a pool, to try to improve my knee. I have just seen the Surgeon again, for a routine checkup, and he assures me all is excellent mechanically speaking. It is just the swelling and pain which are not so nice. He assures me this will all settle eventually. He also mentioned grief can affect healing markedly. I knew this, which is why I did not really want to have the surgery when I did. However I was more or less bullied into it, by the booking office at the Hospital. I was told if I cancelled, I would only get one more chance, and if I postponed or cancelled again, I would be off the list. GRRRR.
The good thing is, I am really enjoying my workouts in the lovely heated pool, and have chatted to several others having gentle exercise, for various ailments. Of course one has to listen to what ails them, then they have to enquire what ails me. I am not so keen on these chats, and do my best to head off on my walking laps.
It is win win, for myself and my son, as he does laps in the outdoor Olympic pool, and he really enjoys that.
To go for these swimming experiences, I had to go and shop for a swim suit, since it is ages since I owned one.
My goodness, what a traumatic affair it all turned out to be!
First of all, the selection proved to be nonexistant very very limited. Too late in the season. Of course it is! Winter stock is all arriving in the shops, and normally, it would be around 30 degrees Celsius over here, at this time of year.
After looking in all the expensive shops, thinking no one would have bought their range, all I found were garments that one would not wish to be caught dead in, let alone still living!
Finally, in a more downmarket store, I found two bathing suits that I felt I bring myself to actually try on.
A most hideous, and traumatising experience, and what I now want to know is "Who stole my nice slim smooth thighs, and replaced them with dimples and cottage cheese??"
When I told my GP of this horrible fact, he actually laughed! All very well for him, he is only 50, and as slender as a Greyhound!
I find, as long as I dont look at myself in any mirrors, I can ignore myself in the bathers, and just get into the water as fast as I can, then slink out wrapped in a large towel, and wait until we are home again, to have a shower and dress in covering garments.
Because it has been so unseasonably chilly this week, I have arrived home shivering and have had to get out the woollies again, to warm myself.
I suspect this cold weather, and the exercise, are causing my appetite to go into horse mode, and the indecent craving for chocolate has really shocked me. I have never before been a chocolate lover.
I feel I have found golden treasure, and had not realised I had already found it, in a garden of my childhood.
It is the humble little Cape Gooseberry, as we called it in our youth. The little green lanterns would become brown and transparent, and we could see the beautiful golden berries within, ready to be eaten.
Here are some photos, taken/stolen from the internet Image files. I sincerely hope the people who own the photos are not offended at my usage of their images.
The Cape Gooseberries of childhood in New Zealand, are now 'Incaberries' living here in Australia. No one seems to have heard of them until now. How curious.
I discovered the 'Incaberries', in a beautiful beetroot, carrot, pinenut, & coriander salad. I was amazed at the delicious flavour these mystery berries imparted. A wonderful sweet and sour flavour, so intriguing to the taste buds. They are touted as being a 'new' wonderfood, and beneficial for all sorts of healthy reasons.
So, of course, I Googled them and discovered that they were in fact, the berries we had loved as children.
I wonder Ali, if you read this, you will remember them? Or perhaps even still have a plant or two. As you are now living in the region where I grew up, I could not help but think you might know of these wonderful little berries.
I was intrigued to read they are a South American fruit, mostly grown at high altitudes. Of course, until I had the salad, I had never known they could be dried! We, as children gobbled them up as soon as they were ripe.
I reminded my beloved Brother of them, and he instantly remembered them with joy at the memory.
Now I am going to be wanting to source them, to use for my own salads.
*****************
More Gold was the sudden onset of gobbling Doule Chocolate Caramel Tim Tams. I have no idea what came over me, but before I knew it, I had eaten five in a row! Normally, I am not much of a chocolate eater, and can take it or leave it.
Gom was the chocolate lover.
Ah well, I guess I can now wear the Tim Tams as extra padding for the Winter.
*****************
In other, much less golden matters, I have been having some 'rounds' with the local Council's garbage collection company. Two weeks ago, I booked a collection.
The week came and went, the garbage remained.
I rang to inquire what the problem was.
"Not a problem," said the SYT (Sweet Young Thing) "You are on a Wait list, and it will be collected in the next few days."
The days ticked past. Garbage remained.
Another call. Another assurance by another SYT that I was "Still on the waitlist."
Come the collection day, no disposal truck. No collection.
WTH??
Many withdrawals had been made from our pile, but on the other hand quite a lot of deposits had been generously donated by other, swinish lazy folks.
A fair number of the scavengers had strewn rubbish over our lawn, and the street. I never object to anyone taking anything they can use. But please! Leave things tidy!
I spoke to a very pleasant man, who was collecting metal, who neatly repacked things after examination. I took him a further metal object to add to his collection. I do hope he uses some of the money he makes to buy himself some teeth for his head.
Mrs Nice Neighbour had booked a collection - after I had booked mine, as it happened. Imagine my horror last Friday, which is not the normal collection day, when Mrs N N's garbage was collected, and the truck drove straight past our, by now disgusting, pile of 'stuff'.
I could not believe the truck drove straight past our lot. I had a laugh with Mrs N N about it, and we decided I am wearing a psychic "Kick Me" sign on my back, and we are both wearing psychic "Sh!t on Me" signs on our heads, since she had waited almost 2 weeks too.
The rest of the saga is too depressing for words. I have phoned the Council, who got a Garbage Comapny SYT to phone me today, with further assurance "Not a Problem"
(What is with this useless bloody phrase that the young keep trotting out, mindlessly.) "Of course there is a problem!" I was practically bellowing, and since I was visiting a friend at the time, I frightened their various birds in the avairy, to say nothing of their cat, dozing on a seat. Their puppy had long since departed, I suppose fearing something might be deemed his fault.
We live on a corner block. Our actual road address has a 4 foot ditch on the side of the road. (In all the twelve years we have lived here, we have been assured by Council it will be paved and guttered, "Next year" Yes, next year, when the pigs fly over, I think to myself.) Of course, our entry and 'frontage' are on the other street. SYT seized upon this as being the reason the garbage had not been collected. By then I was almost screaming.
"Surely the collctors can see it is not practical to place the garbage in the 4 foot ditch! Could they not use their brains to see the garbage as they drove past, and practically over it!!!"
We have had many collections in the past, without incident or problem. I am assured it will all be gone next Thursday. ???
In the meantime it will probably grow, as pickings are now very slim. None of the 'donations' seem to have been worth taking.
And our lawn is dying, but I suppose, since it is mostly Bindii, that wont matter a great deal. GRRRR!
So, you may see, why I am looking for the Gold. Constantly.
An old favourite, Bread Truckin' down the Highway.
I stole the title for this post from an email my Beloved Brother sent me. We usually title our emails to each other, and some are hilarious, while others tell of darker matters.
In his email, BB was remarking that when we were young, the peaches, nectarines and plums all tasted magical, and their scent was so delicious, you were tempted to sink your teeth into the wonderful fruit.
We were lucky as we had a wonderful huge nectarine tree, and peach trees with both white and golden flesh.
And Tamarillo trees, and a wonderful huge passionfruit vine on an A frame trellis our Grandfather built. It was wonderful to sit under the vine, and indulge in the wonderful fruit in secret! Not that we were not allowed to eat the fruit, it was just the magic of hiding away, that was so appealing.
Now the fruit we buy is all uniform in size, lacks much in the way of aroma and the taste seems to have all but disappeared.
We try to buy Local, from a fruit shop that stocks the slightly spotted, or blemished, and undersized fruit and vegetables, from local growers who can't send the produce to the Market. I can't really say the produce tastes better, though some potatoes and beans we purchased at a local farm gate were wonderful. I suspect they cost us more than a shop price, but the taste was worth the money.
Living in the past, some would say. Happy memories though, and the taste of the wonderful fruit seems to remain even after all these years.
I recieved a card, and some photos from friends in Chrischurch New Zealand. The photos were of the friends' youngest son's wedding, and they were beautiful. I phoned them to say Thankyou for the card and the wonderful photos. These friends had been friends with Gom and I for a long time, and we had been with them when that youngest son was born.
'A' kept urging me to 'Come and stay! We will look after you, and you must think about living your life now'. I know the intentions of people are kind, and remarks such as this, are motivated by genuine caring. However after the phone call, I slipped into a deep depression, and realised I could never go back to Chch without Gom. It was his hometown, and I could not bear to see it alone, or indeed, in it's altered state.
I have many friends there who seem to have become accustomed to the continuing shakes and rolls. All have suffered damage to their homes, but they are still 'habitable'. All are promised repairs some time in the future. It must surely be unnerving to live in such uncertainty.
Such is the nature of my grief, I have patches where I think I am making progress, then find myself crying uncontrollably, and feeling so wretched. I dont know how other people make it through. I know this lovely lady, http://idlepersiflage.blogspot.com/ will understand how I am feeling, as she seems to have very similar feelings and experiences. (It is so long since I have blogged, I have forgotten how to link a site to a name only!)
I can hardly believe this year is underway.
I am desperately trying to regain some normalcy~ whatever that is, or will be, now.
I read other blogs, where the 'widow' (Odious word!) seems to be living on and enjoying life again. I suppose everyone is very different. I am trying various ways of coping with it all.
And these two family members have just announced their Engagement. Proud Uncle and Aunt.
