Speechless, again..

.. what with one thing and another.  But this is not a whinge!

Our back yard, before the builders started:

And now look what's happening!! Only 5 weeks in and wow!

Ok, ok, these *may* not be an accurate representation of the work. They are certainly an accurate representation of how I feel about it though!  The builders have been considerate, extremely fast, considerate, masterful, considerate, expert, thoughtful, and considerate. They re-jigged the schedule of works to allow a major tweak to the timing so we don't find ourselves homeless in November.  They 'get' all sorts of things about how to proceed after the house is divided into 'ours' and 'theirs' (ie we will live in part of the renovated house while they finish the other part) and in general are proving to be very fine gentlemen indeed.

My best example of this is that we realised that our wonderful lemon tree, she of at least 30 years hard work providing vitamin C and delight to our home, had to be taken down.  She had, sadly, fruited one of her very best crops this summer and we were all loathe to do it.  But time is not on our side and the expense and disruption of working around one tree was too difficult, and down she had to come. But BEFORE she was cut, the builders picked every lemon on her and saved them for me (in the bassinet!) so we can distribute them to friends (and anyone who wants 5kg of lemons and hasn't realised it yet).  GENTLEMEN, I tell you.

We will have a ceremonial new planting of a lemon tree when we are resident.  I think it should be the first act of recovering the garden.  I am looking forward to it immensely.  I miss gardening very much, as much for the foolish and naughty cat-based activity as much as anything. Recently St Alice of the Garden helped me move and rescue many of my pots so that all the empty ones are safe from droppages and the rest are ready to come and live in our teeny courtyard and be (over) nurtured by me for the rest of the winter. Nurturing is such a strong imperative..

Our pusscat has gone to live with her grandparents* and is living up to her reputation for being strong-minded, feisty, very very insistent, and occasionally quite rewarding.  Early activity included spending 16 hours a day under the bed, followed by (of course it was during the middle of the night!) extreme sports in the form of opening every cupboard, scrabbling at every door and window, jumping where cats don't go, and my favourite, getting into the corner cupboard and riding the lazy susan flinging cake tins off as she went.  This at 3am didn't endear her to my father but my mother just goes 'awww..'. When she pleases, she is accepting pats and sitting on laps, and apart from ripping my mother's thumb off (an ill-advised attempt by ma at soothing a fwighted puss) she's keeping her 'Winning the Crusades One Claw at a Time' side to herself.

I am still here.  Yesterday a perfume sale said "Two orange dot specials for $40".  What was I to do?  Succumb, of course. I picked up these: Hugo Boss 'XX' which is slightly musky and very spicy, and Guess 'Seduction' which is slightly sweetly spicy-warm.. it's so impossible to describe scent.  I die laughing at the descriptions of wine flavours for the same reason - I've seen 'grape-y' (I should hope so); 'hints of earthy chocolate and burnt leaves' (mm, tasty), and 'evokes a sense of limpid summer'.  It does?? Does that mean it's long, humid and sunny?

But I digress.  My M is running on a High Distinction (81%) average for his first semester.  All those dire predictions of mere Passes are of course just nerves talking.  I was allowed to proof-read his final assessment piece and apart from the bits I didn't understand (about 90%) it seemed like a very good piece of work to me.  And I'm right!  His course has changed a little during his absence, so he's thought about upgrading it to a Masters. He was very chuffed to receive an offer to do just this, a couple of weeks ago, and he's accepted.  I'm not sure how many more semesters/subjects this means, but I'm delighted he feels he can achieve this. Of course he can!

I am busy (trying to) choose tiles and taps and benchtops and floors and a vacuum cleaner and windows and sarking (something to do with the roof which is incredibly expensive) and .. such.  I am( almost) amused that tile salesmen can say in the same breath 'oh I LOVE this job, people come in and choose such interesting things' and 'but we don't HAVE coral red and teal'.  I do like contrasts.  I could easily fill a house with amazing colours that bounce and clash and catch the eye and generate energy and warmth and calm and comfort and humour.  I can't see why not!  But the trend (I assume it's a trend) is for tiles to be stuck onto boards in a 'colour story' which is bugging me because a) you can't move the tiles (and therefore try different things), and b) it's someone's idea of a theme which is fine if you like it exactly as is.  Naturally I don't.  I should hastily add that many of the 'stories' are very beautiful, especially the natural stone and terracotta samples.  It's just that I want to use a neutral background and add a bit of 'wow' with my colours, and people keep telling me I can't.  I will, though.

I might stick some photos up of colour ideas in the next post.  It always helps to hear what others think.  Meantime, off I go to save our world again.  Hope you are all warm, well and achieving your wishes, one Wendy at a time..

Oh noes!

.. poor lil puss is in the wars.

A marauding infidel has got into our home, where she lives alone, and there has been some serious biffo.  I found her hiding inside our bed last night, in pain all over and most unhappy.

We feel terribly guilty; she's stayed faithful to us during our absence for the last two and a half years.  She hasn't strayed, gone feral, scratched anything important, or turned the library into a late night jazz hangout for cool cats.

But marauding infidels is a step too far.  We've been havering about what to do with her once the house mods start (and don't ask about that) - the answer is one of these less-than-tempting three options - board her, find someone who will take her for six months or so, or (sob) find her a new home.  We can't really fix this by getting a magnetic cat door, as that wall will be demolished when the mods start, and there are few options for an alternate position.  Also that solution requires her to wear a magnet on a collar, and collars are not much success on her.  So we're a bit stuck.

This week she will stay at the vets, recovering from surgery and being safe while we try to work out what to do.  We absolutely can't have her at the flat, it is forbidden and we are so incredibly grateful to the uni people for allowing us to stay longer than their usual leasing period, we are not going to upset anyone.  M said even if we could have her here, he'd be worried about running her over!

So for now, we are sad and worried and in a big bother about what is the best thing to do.  Saint Libby the vet reports that she is recovering from surgery well, and her sooky mama can visit tomorrow afternoon all going well.

Sigh.

M's accident has led us into some strange places, but this is a hard one.

Update: Mrs Puss had surgery for two nasty wounds, and is now recovering.  I'm doing a hospital visit shortly to apologise for everything.  Meantime my M is in hospital too... a strange week is unrolling...

This can't be right (but it is)...

Thanks to the vagaries of a life ruled by the forces (and farces) of an insurance company, I've had to pay out multiple many shekels of hard-earned superannuation recently.

Now we are reduced to eating toasted gravel and re-using our socks for teabags.  Yes, I will eventually (and that's a loooong eventuation) be re-paid, after a fight about the details and no doubt lots of nice expensive correspondence via the solicitor.

It's absolutely NOT fair, but it is the way it has to be.  They are indeed liable; the crucial question is 'for how much?' and that is what all the arguing and denying and madness is about.  We forge on, counting our small triumphs as we go, and trying not to get caught in the emotion of it all.

I have wondered, sometimes, how any decent person could work for such a company, but of course it's not about us or the human element or fairness in general, it's just business.  They want to protect their investment from illegal claims and make their shareholders happy.  When we feel like we're being singled out, we're wrong. Not only does every person making a claim have to go through a similar process (not necessarily as complicated a process as ours, but the same basic forces apply); every person is both benefitting and being compromised by this process. Our claims for third party or flood damage or burglary are all equally subject to the scrutiny and regulations that rule this industry and guide how it operates.

That doesn't make it easier.  It just makes it impersonal.  It's not ME, or M, who is being treated this way.  It's claim # 550293B-iiZ and it goes through all the office processes just like every other claim.

Some of you who read this blog may find this concept comforting, or become even more annoyed or frustrated for us!  Don't, though.  Remember we have excellent help; we're in the right, and we WILL get M home and get back to whatever our new lives are going to be.

I, myself, may need to sit down heavily for a bit once the settlement is settled.  Possibly requiring some spontaneous unnecessary pamper-shopping to relieve my feelings via unguent-therapy.  M may feel he needs to acquire another 200 books.  Whatever works, once we get there.

I visited Little Miss Wendy's house tonight to borrow the vacuum cleaner.  She squeaked and rubbed and meowwwwed and demanded foods until I gave in, although it was clear her evening meal had already been served and thoroughly consumed. Then she led me to my side of the bed and indicated I might lie down for her delectation.

As I was unable to oblige (needing to return to my honey) I am sorry to report that as I departed, she was stomping around the kitchen snarling to herself about being quicker on the uptake to bite me when she has the chance.

Poor puss.  Lucky me!

Wend, wend..

We are calmly wending our way towards Easter.  My explosion-count is down.  M is recovering well from the last hospital experience.  Here he is watching opera, attended by his faithful moi..

He is making me go with him on the BUS to get things done in the city shops. BUS!! Princesses don't DO buses do they?

Apparently, yes they do.  Hmm.  [I should add that the bus is incredibly convenient - the driver lowers the bus to pavement level, then nips out and unfolds the ramp.  An unexpected side effect is that (so far) they've refused to charge either of us a fare.  Nice.  It takes ten minutes to get into the city so I really can't complain.  But I do note that I am not as flexible as I used to be about bumpiness!]

The bus, going the other way, stops at several other very useful places, like M's favourite pub, the shops where the late-night chemist is (much-frequented by me of late); one stop up is M's church, and a little way further we can get off and it's a 15 minute walk home.  Whence we wend our way to Wendy.

Sorry, I just had to say that!

I can't smell a thing so I can only hope that this post is brought to you by eau de spag bol, clean linen and a thoughtful pshht of Gucci (cos why should the rest of you miss out??).

WHUT??

Today, that is yesterday, that being Friday, I stumbled through the day. Exhausted, sore, cranky and bewildered. Mostly bewildered. I posted the car and watered the golliwog. Dealt graciously with the unexpected cleaner who turned up (by immediately utilising this miracle, no hesitation!). Cancelled lunch BEFORE 8pm. Remembered to write down at least three important things, and even spoke rationally to someone asking me something vital. Which I have now forgotten, oh dear...

And ACHED to be able to lie down and go to sleep. All day.

So WHY am I awake now, unable to shut me eyes and get the rest I need? Can't be the decaf I had 7 hours ago.. can't be my wildly uncontrollably high energy level.. can't be worry (I'm all out of that) or lostness or even a half-decent list of things I need to write down.

It must be the lack of cat. Clearly I am unable to go to sleep without a half-broken ankle squished under a no-longer-so-very-small little cat. The same wee puss who enjoys taking a running jump onto my chest at 5.30am when she fancies brekkie.

Or the world has turned upside down and I didn't notice. Quite likely.

But..

NOT FAIR.

Reviewing, sort of..

Two weeks ago I started a new patchwork class - how to make a Ramallah quilt. Using saturated plain colours, on a black or other dark background. Very interesting, using only a basic log cabin, but swapping colours within the patch, and then cutting the whole thing (a 30cm patch) into four pieces, so that you get four times the possibilities for making different patterns and colour combinations. Interesting. A good reminder that back to basics is a very valuable concept. I know *I* get stuck in the gorjussness of patterned fabrics, and textures, and sheens... and here is a very very simple idea which leads to stunning results!

In other news, it's windy, cold, two of the humans in this household of two are not well, and Wendy has made it quite clear that she purrfurs being an only cat. And, now that she's had a taste of some different types of cat fud, she's also making it clear that mere crunchies are so, like, yesterday. The only thing we have as a weapon to use against this shameless blackmail is the fact that we are still bigger than her. Not much I agree!

I'm also crocheting a circle, in a very restrained pallette of colours. Also a departure for me, who likes strong constrasts. I'm using plum, rose pink, dark blue, mid-blue with pale flecks, dark teal, and a very pale lilac. Two rows each of trebles. It's about a metre across now, and I've used up the plum and original rose pink wool. So when I get to the end of the next 'band' of the colour repeat, I'm going to stop the trebles and begin making chains. A few rows of that in the remaining colours (and, maybe, not a complete circle in each colour, but I'll see what that looks like), some tufts of the colours in mohair (the mid-blue and the rose pink... hmm... blue and pink... maybe NOT. Blue, mid-blue and teal might be better) and it's finished. And yes, dear patient reader(s?), I shall attempt to post a photo. If I can manage that, I'll have a go at putting a fold in, and also posting links.

Both of my laptops died last week, and one of them is beyond redemption. Well, not the type of redemption *I* can afford. To my amusement, the fixing-it bloke said 'its logic centre is kaput'. Logic centre??? Who knew? But I am very grateful that my new lappie, the darling Airbook, is fixable UNDER WARRANTY. For once, the consumer is ahead! I should be back to hours of 'studying' asap. Meantime I am reduced to using M's desktop, which the fixing-it Macbloke took very hard. He could feel my pain....

This week brought to you by burnt jam, overcooked veggies, several smashed glass things, and a stiff neck. Nearly all of these set-backs were caused or at least directly related to a complete lack of sense of smell, shaky hands (Ventolin roolz!), and bad sleep. I HAVE worn some Obsession, some Prada, and some Gucci. For all I knew, it coulda bin eau de catbox, dead spuds, or lashings of lurgy-lotion :-/

Blank and numb..

We miss Maccy.

We can hear him squikking at the door, wanting more food, demanding access to the bed. I heard him quite distinctly earlier this evening, saying 'you call that DINNER??'.

I ate my dinner on a tray on my lap, unmonstered by a large purring black bucket attempting to nick all the best bits for hisself.

All my little prickly-paw spots have healed up.

We scattered some rose petals on his grave this evening. At the moment it is decorated with five pavers with a rather elegant cat design on them. Later we'll put down some cobblestones to hold everything more firmly in place. Meantime he's at one with the petunias, watching the streetscape and waiting for someone to stop and say hello.

Wendy is very quiet, not actually looking for him, but somewhat subdued and behaving remarkably well. This is quite ominous - we've had her for nearly four years and good behaviour and general manageability have not been elements we associate with her character. More like chomping, ambushing, sleeping in norty places (like on M's desk, or up on the dining table), running away when we call her, charging up trees to show off, etc.

This is horrible. I hope we manage acceptance fairly soon. Meantime I am somewhat soothed by the amazing Indian summer we're having, and the pleasures of immersing myself in a rather silly but absorbing new computer game.

Today brought to you by L'Occitane Almond Oil, Jo Malone Nutmeg and Ginger Cologne, and Jo Malone Red Roses body cream. The best and most delicate of my scents. And I still feel like crap.

View from the weekend..

Bumpy. Undulating? Definitely not smooth, anyway.

A friend had a bad fall and broke his hip; instant mayhem for the family. I hope he'll heal fast, completely and with added wisdom. Nasty events always have this potential!

My darling M has been very down today, after spending yesterday being wonderfully energetic and keeping ME going. He woke in the night saying he was feeling his age. Poor man. We decided that this meant today was an Official Sunday, thereby throwing all expectations to the winds and letting ourselves blob around, eat funny things at funny times, indulge each other, and play with the cats. The highlight of the day was watching a dvd of Claudio Abbado conducting the Berlin Phil in a lavishly gorgeous theatre in Sorrento. A wonderful purrformance of Dvorak's 'New World Symphony', with some rather pretentious doco-style ramblings about supposed influences on his composition. But the purrformance was masterful, and very well filmed. We enjoyed it very much, as we quietly removed a few more bits of fur-lump from Maccy, snorted our evening drinks down with posh chocolate, and tried very hard to get Wendy to come in from a storm. She turned up well after it was over, looking very pleased with herself. And very wet!

We've reconstructed my workroom as a spare bedroom (ie put a bed in there again), and M is now sacked out, safely tucked in away from my nocturnal/insomniac interruptions. I'm happily up the other end of the house (there's a lot to be said for long, rectangular houses), playing the Corrs, typing, arranging my 'art' teatowels on the bed (I can feel some hanging up coming on tomorrow), contemplating the Ikea delivery next weekend, thinking of sofa-hunting tomorrow, and considering the effect of a cheese sandwich before sleepytime. Trouble is, I want a cheese sandwich with LOTS of butter, and I'm sure my doc would shudder and point to my latest cholesterol level results. Dang.

I haven't made much of a start on this year yet, except to throw out the prescriptions from 2007 which are definitively out of date. I'm not trying for a resolution, cos I aint got any. Even moderate attempts at willpower are largely a failure. Going with the flow is easier, except I don't flow much, I'm more of a stasis girl. Oh well. There are some fun projects I could start on, easily completed, which would be satisfying. Like putting a hanging pocket on a sequinned and embroidered cloth, to hang behind our bed. Finishing putting polar fleece along the edge of our bedspread so the fringe doesn't tickle our noses. Sewing ditto to mum's HYOOG knitted blanky which is going to Germany to adorn the bed of my eldest niece. This one will have to be handsewn, and with temperatures aiming for 37 later this week, I'm not looking forward to having it in my lap! I might have to do a deal with the ironing board.. it can take the bulk and the weight, while I fiddle with the edge. We'll see. It might be one of those things which is massively attractive to the attentions of a cat. A cat which might think it's great fun to 'help'.

.... I should get my wobbly ass back to gym. And off to the pool for wading, which, dear readers, is THE exercise invented to fix your tight lower back. Goes like this: hop into the medium pool at Dickson, the one which is only 1.5m at the deepest end, is under shade-cloth, and is big enough to stride around. Stride around. Do this until you feel like a coffee. Go and get one - they're rather good at the cafe there - and resume striding around with your coffee in one hand. Fabbo. You can do all this without getting your hair wet, your self sunburnt, or endangering your caffeine level. Close to purrfect as a form of exercise don't you think?

Alice the Garden came today (delayed from last Tuesday when it was too hot). She does miracles every time. Today she put in the three large iceberg roses I was given before christmas. I've been keeping them alive in plastic bags... I hope they'll all thrive. We're happily planting prickly things all along part of our front fence, because late last year someone walking along there broke off most of my fruit tree saplings. Much grief, especially for the persimmon tree which was leaping towards the sun and looking very happy. Now it's only 2 feet tall. A nice thick row of high and rambling roses; boysenberries, raspberries, spiky grevilleas and anything else I can think of to add to the deterrent mix; a year or so of growing, and my trees will be quite safe. AND I hope all this will outgrow the bloody vinca, which is big fat nuisance all along the fence-line. As bad as ivy.

Alice's visits always leave me with lots of things to do in her wake. I can't dig the holes or cart the heavy bags of stuff around. But I'm a gun Seasol-er; I can plant wee things into the softer soil; and I can plan, oh how I can plan! I have many natives to go in, and my sis busy growing more from seed, the clever thing. When all my hakeas finally fall over, I'll have Canberra grown and hardened replacements all strong and healthy. Nice. I'll also have a very eclectic garden full of cape daisies and mint bush and boobialla and blue fescue and lavender and agapanthus and pigface and geraniums and seaside daisy... I think there's only one environmental weed in that list! I'll check... I've spent 10 years removing masses of the top ten enviro-weeds which were all rampant in this old garden. The huge piles of privet, honeysuckle, ivy, cotoneaster, vinca, wandering jew, ... well that's 6 out of 10. I know I had ten but it's too late to look up details. Trust me!

And now I see it is tomorrow and that cheese sammo is looking better and better. I guess I could go easy on the butter and add a bit of mustard... I will certainly be adding purrfume to the nocturnal mix. I have some Mugler 'Angel' which needs opening. The one I've been using in the last week is 'Lily Angel', a difference I didn't note until I saw bottles on display in a very dangerous shop in Manuka... a shop full of shiny things and discounted purrfume and beads and makeup and and and.. what with being under the influence of pancakes, being very relaxed, and knowing what was in my bank account, I had no chance did I?

Please send bone-knitting, garden-growing, headache-dispelling and sense-of-smell-in-full-opurrational-order vibes. They will all go to good homes. Send some dorter-patting too while you're at it, pats are always useful on dorters. Especially darling ones like mine.

My cattie..

.. is feeling better!! Add thyroid meds, and he's himself within half a day. Amazing. All he's done since we started meds is sleep, and be happy. Every now and then we see a black shadow stomping up to the kitchen for fud supplies; then he returns via a nice drink from the bucket in the shower to his preferred sleeping place - the carpet on my study floor. He lies against the door, paws all over the place, and sleeeeeeeeeps. Gorjuss.

That Other Cat is busy hunting buffaloes, committing atrocities under mrs nexdor's deck, and climbing trees to catch (or shoot) the breeze. Her other plan is to mulch the kitchen floor for me, so she engages in lavish dust-baths, rolling and rubbing herself in so that she turns brown, and then comes in and flosses it all onto the floor. She gets bonus points if I'm wearing my black daks, so she can rub the top layer off on them. What a life. Her other activity is sleeping on the dining table on my summer hat.

Cats are WEIRD. But oh so independent and norty and delightful.

Hmm....


....


kinda like me.

Re-entry, Mark 2

Hmm...I am Officially Not Well.

Again.

Sighhhhhhhh...

My respiratory system was, as you regular readers well know, a troublesome travelling companion. Oh well, I thoughts to myself, once I get home things will settle down.

I was wrong. You don't need the details. Roids rool, n all that... re-entry is being prolonged by continuing shit health. I don't know if that is a Medicare item, but it should be!

Meantime, however, between meds, puffers, rests, abandoned plans, and quite a lot of takeaway food, some things HAVE been achieved:

-I have found my socks but not my mobile.
-I have cut some but by no means all of the matted fur lumps off the divine but arthritic Maccy.
-I have enjoyed listening to Alice the Garden singing as she watered the new babies, and talked to Little Miss Wendy, my local buffalo-huntress.
-I have cooked a very good roast lamb, the only change to my usual recipe being to cook it very slowly on a low heat (so I could sleep off something or other). It was moist, tender and YUM.
-I have moved the furniture back to its normal configuration in the lounge, and removed sundry junks, so it looks more homey. But the Great (and bloody endless) New Sofa Hunt will have to resume very soon!
-I have bought two new 'pattern-matching' (anti-Alzheimers!) games for free!!! for my trusty home laptop. And spent a lot of ventolin-fuelled midnight hours playing them while I metabolised said drug enough to stop shaking and go to sleep..
-my Good Wimmin turned up yesterday bearing amazing goodies for me: two bunches of flars (burgundy and cream, oh gorjuss), shortbread freckles, soothing Organic Serenity (TM) tea from Toby's Estate. Their intent was to cheer. It worked!
and
-I have been able to do a small but oh so wonderful bit of socialising - from the purrfect delight of young Aidan (hi baby!) to the extremely violent but perfectly balanced Bell Shakespeare's 'Titus Andronicus' last night. Literally buckets of blood. My play companions and I had to repair for a drinkie afterwards to wash away the images... which were NOT gratuitous. John Bell can use the most minimal set, props, costume, and with the power of words and interpretation, knock you backwards in your seat and peel the everyday glaze from your eyeballs, with a single gesture. Fabulous.

Had some straaaaaange dreams afterwards, but..

Today? There is the possibility of crullers with Cath, I want to sit on my deck, and I'd like to cook again. There is a fridge full of lovely farmer's market veggies to consider. But, sadly, no purrfume, because a) I can't smell a thing, and haven't been able to for about a week, SAD FACE; and b) anyway it might make me wheeze or koff, and THAT is something I can manage to frustrating purrfection all on my own....

Tank you all karmic lawds and forces...

... cos I been wrangling my new puter via Perth and Bombay since 11.30pm yesterday, and in spite of much scuttling between my study and his, inventions of 10 digit numbers, a cold cuppa coffee and some muttering, it seemed that I would not be able to get Net access on my shiny new Airport.

Anguish. Sobgnashmuttermuttermutter...

Then, miwacles!!!! It just decided that if I asked it very nicely to connect to the Net (as if I hadn't just spent about eleventy-hundred grey hairs and almost a whole nervous system on failing to do just that) natch, Net access, why not?

So now, at last, yesterday is over.

Brought to you by a number of godly forces, such as the purrfect dorter, Diorissimo, Mal, a crucial bottle of champagne, and the wonders of the interwebs. And not forgetting Wendy, who let me pat her for once. My baby ... but I is hysterical.

'night....THUDD.