Brain Injury Awareness Week

http://bangonabeanie.com.au/

Check out this website for information and merchandise on this very important subject.

15th - 21st August, 2011 Brain Injury Awareness Week.  

Awareness of brain injury issues is vital for education, fundraising and support.  Brain injury is often called the invisible disability.  It is not always obvious and in fact quite often misunderstood.

Thank you for understanding.

Goose Gone, Gooseless, Goose-free

Fanny Goose has gone!  I know not where.  Could be a fox, an eagle, the handsome gander over the hill and far away, a need for her own career, maybe she needed to "find herself".  All I know is that Bruce is in mourning.  He is sad.  Bruce has gone from being noisy, aggressive, protective of his Fanny to being quiet, uninterested in human contact and depressed.  His heart is broken.  I am not exactly happy about this event either.  I dread to think something violent happened to her but it is the most likely scenario.  Twice I have looked for her or signs of her eg. feathers but there is nothing.  I will give her a couple of days to come home otherwise I will have to seriously consider what to do with Bruce.  Maybe I will rehome him with a flock somewhere, he may find another Fanny.  A new goose in his life.  One who will not stray from his protective side.  RIP Fanny.

Crested Pigeons & Rainbow Lorikeets

Evening Sky

Wall Art or Grafitti?

Tacky Prezzies

Oh yes they are tacky but I think they are totally appropriate for a couple of my teenage relatives for Christmas.  They don't have to love them, just get a kick out of receiving them.  I think the pole dancer is particularly unique and I was immediately drawn to it in the catalogue.  Does that make me weird?   Oh yeah, and just a hint of tacky thrown in.

Winter Afternoon

Beachside Photography

Bum Pear

AAAAAHHHHHH Teenagers!

Where do teenagers go when they are "listening" (and I use the term loosely) to us?  The Young Negotiator, 18 years old, nice boy, sweet nature, generous soul but OH MY GOD does he drive me crazy.  I don't know how he has survived school.  I am positive that at school they give the students instructions they need to follow and remember.  I am pretty sure in their casual after school jobs they have protocols and tasks that must be adhered to.  Why does it not work at home?

Lucky young man, he is now in the Big Metropolis about to take part in an international hockey tournament.  His team is made up with players from Australia, Belgium and England.  They are staying at the same accommodation, eating together and playing hockey for five days.  Wonderful.  But he doesn't get there on some cosmic magic ride.  No, it takes organising and planning. None of which he has an aptitude for.  I guess that is normal for teenagers, I accept that.  But when given directions and advice leading up to his departure I may as well be talking to a leaky gumboot.   OH MY GOD he drove me crazy.  Have a said that?  I was recovering from a nasty flu.  I was getting all his washing up to date.  I worked on his travel itinerary. 

On the day of his departure I said to him that I wanted him packed and ready to go before I have my afternoon sleep.  I need to relax and not worry about anything.  I had to drive him to the airport about 40 minutes away and we had limited spare time.  "We are leaving when I get up OK?"  Yep, no worries.

My sleep completed I get up, change, hang out a load of washing and look at the Young Negotiator.  "Where is your list of things you need from the shops?"  Don't need anything. 
"Have you packed a toothbrush and toothpaste?" No.
"Shampoo and conditioner?"  No.  Don't have any.
"You do know that without these items you will be one stinky breathed, slimy haired character shunned by all the cleaner teenagers around you yes?"
"Deodorant?"  Have run out.
"Are you ready to go?"  Oh we're going now?

AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

We get to the airport and I tell the Young Negotiator he has to do all the talking and book himself in.  He will need to do it by himself on the way home so this is his trial run.  The girl behind the counter is learning also but supervised.  I stay out of the whole conversation and don't quite catch the last thing the young woman says to him.   Something something something don't forget.  We walk away and I ask him what she said.  "I don't know." 

"Have you got a hockey ball with you?  Oh no I forgot.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Mind you, I have to be honest.  I am an organised person, I like lists, I plan ahead.  But I must have organised his flights when I was mid-fever.  I booked his flights one day too late and did not discover this until four days before departure.  So I changed them.  It cost $60 to change and an extra $40 on top because I accidentally booked him another load of luggage taking it to a total of 50kg allowed on both his flights.  I also booked travel insurance accidentally, which in hindsight is probably not a bad thing.  I still had his flights incorrect in that he has a day and a half extra in the Big Metropolis after everyone else has left.  Stupidly I suggested he explore the city on his own, stay an extra night and have fun with it. 

What was I thinking?  The Young Negotiator has to find his way around the city, not get mugged, lose his wallet or his way.  He has to get himself to the airport an hour before his flight on public transport, book himself in, actually listen to the instructions given him by the airport staff and get to the right gate for departure.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

I have told him all this.  I looked him straight in the eye and made him take out his earphones.  I was serious, monotone voice and held his arm for good measure.  I wonder where he was when I was talking to him.  He would have seen my lips move, my earnest eyes staring at him, felt the grip of my under-moisturised hand on his arm but he was probably in that space teenagers go when their parents speak to them.  That magical space that keeps them protected from the practicalities of life.

Oh well, he does have travel insurance.  He can carry 50kg worth of luggage.  I assume he has his mobile phone, it has credit and is fully charged.  If the Young Negotiator can get through this without ending up in Bali or New Zealand I will be very impressed.  I will know he is absorbing information through his skin.  Maybe survival instincts will cut in and he will recall the information given him.

The Young Negotiator may become ...... (drumroll) ..... A MAN!  Because they are so much more organised, they listen, they care about the effort put in on their behalf.   When they get lost or in trouble men ask for help.........

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Mission Impossible: Greyhound Style

First let me set the scene.  Low and serious male voice:  It is Sunday night in our house, dinner time.  Newly imposed tradition of "Get Your Own" is in motion.  Teens decide on marinated chicken wings, rice and garlic bread from the freezer.  Hmm, interesting choice.  The Dynamic Daughter, known to burn the odd chocolate pudding, puts the naked garlic bread in convection microwave oven for 24 minutes... on microwave.  It should have been oven.  OK, we have major stink in entire house, blackened garlic bread in kitchen bin and teens having marinated chicken wings and rice.

Cut to the next day.  House still stinks.  The theme music for Mission Impossible is playing quietly in your head.  Kitchen bin still has offending garlic bread in situ.  Mum goes to town, Dad at work and I can't remember where the Young Negotiator is.  Dynamic Daughter is home alone... with the dogs, cat etc.  Can you still hear that music?  Layla Greyhound, secret agent for Food Obsessives Agency, goes into stealth mode and enters the stinky demilitarised zone ie. the kitchen.  She heads for the source of the stink that is making her salivate and tremble in anticipation.  The Kitchen Bin!  It is our third design of kitchen bin.  The security of the previous two designs were breached by said greyhound, a most inventive agent.  This is the peddle bin design and should be secure.  

"Ha ha ha" (insane laughter by some evil random bloke)  "I don't think so".   Alarm bells go off, lights flash on and off and big steel doors come crashing down (or they would if the bin was fitted with such technology).  The Kitchen Bin has been breached... again! 

Mum returns home to find Dynamic Daughter both angry and frustrated with Layla Greyhound, secret agent for  Food Obsessives Agency.  THREE TIMES she wails, THREE TIMES she got into the bin.  She was scolded and locked out each time, the last being for a whole hour.  Has she learnt her lesson?  Not on your Nelly.  She will do it again, Layla is Mission Impossible dog.  She is on her third kitchen bin and is likely to breech the security of said bin again.  Mother swears and curses and decides to ban both dogs from the kitchen.  Roger, cannot understand why the house rules have changed. 

Mum finds evidence of charcoal garlic bread residue on the carpet in her bedroom.  Oh joy and the smell continues. 

Do do  do do  do do  do do  do do  do do  do do  do-do-do, do-do-do.  Mission Impossible Dog and secret agent for Food Obsessives Agency has stealth mode and cunning on her side.  We are lost.

Secret Fireplace

This fireplace is in our eat-in kitchen.  When we first purchased our home 18 years ago we were unaware of its existence.  It was cement rendered and boarded up.  We removed the cladding and had it sandblasted.  An old builder we had doing some work on the place told us that this fireplace was never meant to be seen bare.  The bricks used are uneven and second hand and for structural purposes only.  We love its character.  There is a corresponding but smaller fireplace on the other side of the wall in our bathroom (which was once the lounge room).

Random Acts of Photography

Old Deadly Treadly

Told you I was bored....

I Don't Think So

Me thinks the labelling is just one big fat lie!