The Young Negotiator at age 20 has left home. Wahoo! Yeehar! Woop Woop! Oh but he is lovely, that lad. I did not mind living with him at all. He is quiet and tends to be invisible but I am a person who, at age 17 years and one month left home to discover herself and live, I could see it was more than time for this lad to grow up away from parental concerns. He has been cooking, washing, ironing, cleaning successfully for a long time so I was not worried about him domestically. In fact, he was a lot better prepared than this innocent child of 17. I was able to boil mince and overcook chicken like no-one ever before.
I believe strongly in learning through consequences. Young adults do not always believe or listen to their parents advice, especially when it is offered through a poorly worn veil of frustration. I also believe you cannot tell a young adult what to do, only advise them. It is their life to live but sometimes you wish you had that power again from when they were young. And so as far as I am concerned the only way is through life experience, eg. paying your own bills, keeping the car serviced without the nagging of your parents, if you burn the crap out of a fry pan it may never recover and so you need to replace it, and perhaps cook on a lower heat. It is also a time for me as a parent to stop worrying about him being late for his licence renewal or car registration etc. We as parents try to prevent them from falling on their faces, being troubled by the stress of not being organised but we have to stop. The easiest way is by them not being there. Youth will learn by their mistakes, falling on their faces and 'oh, the electricity is out because I didn't pay the bill. My internet!!! I won't do that again' type scenarios.
Strangely, yet wonderfully, the Young Negotiator is asking for advice these days. He wants to know why his steak is not cooking nicely when he has the pan on a low heat (fear of having to replace the burnt out remains as before). He appreciated the advice of storing meal size left overs in the freezer for those late shift dinners instead of eating chilli con carne for four days in a row. He has asked me where I buy my meat and what I think of certain cuts. I LOVE it.
When people ask me how the Young Negotiator is going I tell them I can find out every second Tuesday night. That is when he comes home for dinner. Otherwise there is silence. The Young Negotiator is not big on communication but those twice monthly dinners are when we hear it all. He talks and laughs and enjoys home cooked meals. He tells us what he has eaten, where he has been, what bargain he has purchased. For example, he bought himself a table recently. Yeah? A wooden one? Yes and it extends if I want it to. I bought it from an Op Shop. It is for card games with friends and it is "out the back". Under cover? Yes. OK, did it come with chairs then? Yes. How many? Not sure, maybe six or eight. Got to love him. Maybe he will have a meal on it one day.
I am waiting for the need of money or the love of a good partner to spur him into at least a mild form of ambition. He works and earns money and is happy which is more than a lot of people but when it comes to ambition he is very relaxed and, perhaps, that is not a bad thing. Happiness is more important than status or money and he is happy. I would not wish him otherwise.
One down and one to go. The Dynamic Daughter is completing some studies at home and then she will be off. Empty nest? Not every second Tuesday anyway.
Showing posts with label Me My Family and I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me My Family and I. Show all posts
Friday, February 21, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
TERMITES!! Oh Bother
Oh yes, that word strikes fear into any home owner, especially a home in excess of 100 years of age. We have an infestation of the little buggers in FOUR of our rooms, three bedrooms and one bathroom.
You see it all started when the Young Negotiator left home. He is 20 now and it was time for him to leave the nest (pun intended). He "cleaned" his room and moved out leaving just the bedroom furniture. No 20 year man wants to take his single, childhood bed with him. I entered this den of teenage manhood for the first time in years to de-cobweb the ceiling, no mean feat I can tell you. It was thick with webs in that gloomy room. Yes, gloomy because he had the lowest wattage bulb known to exist I think. Why? Ambiance? Mood lighting? Save the environment? No I think it was the first one he picked up when he needed to replace a blown bulb.
My cobweb broom was filling fast with dusty, sticky but spiderless webs (even the spiders found it too gloomy) when I noticed an anomaly in the corner of the ceiling: dirt build up and puckered lining boards. One step ladder and one egg lifter later I am jabbing at this strange dirt to find it hard and unmoving. So I poked the puckered wood next to it, just once, and oomph, the egg lifter went straight through the wood without resistance causing a hole for the little white ants to fall out of. I said something along the lines of "Oh bother" or some such benign exclamation and started to inspect the rest of the room. Not good. I turned my attention to the rest of the house, "Oh bother" many, many times. Holy white ant damage Batman it was in the walls and ceilings of four of our rooms. This calls for the help of Termite Man!!
Termite Man came and looked and said something like "Oh bother" which did not instil confidence in me. He went up into the roof space and said "I am going to take photos" which made me tremble at the knees. Termite Man was happier when he re-emerged from the roof. The frame of the house is untouched but the little buggers have followed the lining boards along in a straight line and have done a fair bit of damage. It could be worse, the house will not collapse around us leaving us stunned and covered in dust.
Next step: treatment with non-toxic traps under the house. I love the fact they don't use dangerous poisons anymore. Termite Man told me the bait is as toxic as salt, no harm to domestic pets or wildlife. Fantastic.
"Have you seen any snakes around lately? Because if there are any brown snakes (very poisonous) I charge double." said the smiling assassin. No-o-o, not for a long time. Within five minutes I hear this almighty groan from Termite Man. A brown snake has slithered under the house and he has yet to set the traps under there. "Oh bother" we both say.
"Err, can you keep the dogs inside while I go under the house on my hands and knees to set the traps? I was under a house once and their little dog came and licked me in the ear, frightened the bother out of me. I lifted my head in response and crowned myself on the flooring above. I saw stars!". A very reasonable request I thought.
Traps are set. My termites' time on this earth are numbered. Apparently when the termites die and the eaten wood is left to dry out it will crumble to dust. "Oh bother" that will be an expensive event to deal with. That is in the future and will be dealt with then.
Termite Man will be back to check on the traps and possibly top them up and from now on we will have him out for a yearly inspection, something we should have been doing for the last 20 years. Sigh. Hindsight eh? Bothersome little creatures.
You see it all started when the Young Negotiator left home. He is 20 now and it was time for him to leave the nest (pun intended). He "cleaned" his room and moved out leaving just the bedroom furniture. No 20 year man wants to take his single, childhood bed with him. I entered this den of teenage manhood for the first time in years to de-cobweb the ceiling, no mean feat I can tell you. It was thick with webs in that gloomy room. Yes, gloomy because he had the lowest wattage bulb known to exist I think. Why? Ambiance? Mood lighting? Save the environment? No I think it was the first one he picked up when he needed to replace a blown bulb.
My cobweb broom was filling fast with dusty, sticky but spiderless webs (even the spiders found it too gloomy) when I noticed an anomaly in the corner of the ceiling: dirt build up and puckered lining boards. One step ladder and one egg lifter later I am jabbing at this strange dirt to find it hard and unmoving. So I poked the puckered wood next to it, just once, and oomph, the egg lifter went straight through the wood without resistance causing a hole for the little white ants to fall out of. I said something along the lines of "Oh bother" or some such benign exclamation and started to inspect the rest of the room. Not good. I turned my attention to the rest of the house, "Oh bother" many, many times. Holy white ant damage Batman it was in the walls and ceilings of four of our rooms. This calls for the help of Termite Man!!
Termite Man came and looked and said something like "Oh bother" which did not instil confidence in me. He went up into the roof space and said "I am going to take photos" which made me tremble at the knees. Termite Man was happier when he re-emerged from the roof. The frame of the house is untouched but the little buggers have followed the lining boards along in a straight line and have done a fair bit of damage. It could be worse, the house will not collapse around us leaving us stunned and covered in dust.
Next step: treatment with non-toxic traps under the house. I love the fact they don't use dangerous poisons anymore. Termite Man told me the bait is as toxic as salt, no harm to domestic pets or wildlife. Fantastic.
"Have you seen any snakes around lately? Because if there are any brown snakes (very poisonous) I charge double." said the smiling assassin. No-o-o, not for a long time. Within five minutes I hear this almighty groan from Termite Man. A brown snake has slithered under the house and he has yet to set the traps under there. "Oh bother" we both say.
"Err, can you keep the dogs inside while I go under the house on my hands and knees to set the traps? I was under a house once and their little dog came and licked me in the ear, frightened the bother out of me. I lifted my head in response and crowned myself on the flooring above. I saw stars!". A very reasonable request I thought.
Traps are set. My termites' time on this earth are numbered. Apparently when the termites die and the eaten wood is left to dry out it will crumble to dust. "Oh bother" that will be an expensive event to deal with. That is in the future and will be dealt with then.
Termite Man will be back to check on the traps and possibly top them up and from now on we will have him out for a yearly inspection, something we should have been doing for the last 20 years. Sigh. Hindsight eh? Bothersome little creatures.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
She's Ba-a-a-ck!
Yes, it has happened. After nearly a year off from blogging I will attempt to get back into it with more regularity, just like the proverbial high fibre diet, the blogging must continue.
Updates
We have lost our lovely Layla Greyhound to a nasty lesion on her spine that paralysed her within six days of her first symptoms. What a special dog she was. We were heartbroken and she has left a hole in our family that still hurts sometimes. No surprise to me that if you look hard enough there will be something funny about the dire situation. I am sitting on the floor of the vet surgery, crying, cradling my poor greyhound's head and saying my goodbyes. The vet sat with me and we talked about what a treasure she was as a pet and a patient. He rose to go get the euthanasia solution drawn up and our lovely Layla, ever ready for a meal, was able to raise her head (the only movement she had) and watch him leave and I knew in my heart her thought processes were "He is off to get my food. How much? Doesn't matter, any food is good food". I was able to laugh about it much later. Her pleasures were simple. Affection, attention, playing with Roger staffy, a good zip around the paddock and most importantly of all FOOD.
I suspect Roger felt it worst of all. He became depressed and lethargic. We waited for two months before applying for another rescue greyhound but there was a waiting list. We needed a cat friendly one but so did many others. Roger did not improve and out of desperation I acquired a free Pound Puppy of sorts, a cross bread of beautiful brown eyes and black, shiny coat. Apparently this little waif was a Border Collie x Rottweiler....hmm right. It transpires she is a B/Collie x Kelpie x who knows what. I have said all along I would not get a Kelpie/cross. Too busy, too much stimulation but of course when you are in love with your pup you don't return her do you?
Megatron Destructopuppy is our newest member of the family. She is now seven months old and a beautiful natured beast that sometimes tests my ability to keep patience, as puppies do. More about her later. Roger the Dodger, it turns out, has dementia which also accounted for his strange and quiet moods. He is 11 years old and it seems he is ageing quickly.
Farewell Layla Greyhound.
Updates
We have lost our lovely Layla Greyhound to a nasty lesion on her spine that paralysed her within six days of her first symptoms. What a special dog she was. We were heartbroken and she has left a hole in our family that still hurts sometimes. No surprise to me that if you look hard enough there will be something funny about the dire situation. I am sitting on the floor of the vet surgery, crying, cradling my poor greyhound's head and saying my goodbyes. The vet sat with me and we talked about what a treasure she was as a pet and a patient. He rose to go get the euthanasia solution drawn up and our lovely Layla, ever ready for a meal, was able to raise her head (the only movement she had) and watch him leave and I knew in my heart her thought processes were "He is off to get my food. How much? Doesn't matter, any food is good food". I was able to laugh about it much later. Her pleasures were simple. Affection, attention, playing with Roger staffy, a good zip around the paddock and most importantly of all FOOD.
I suspect Roger felt it worst of all. He became depressed and lethargic. We waited for two months before applying for another rescue greyhound but there was a waiting list. We needed a cat friendly one but so did many others. Roger did not improve and out of desperation I acquired a free Pound Puppy of sorts, a cross bread of beautiful brown eyes and black, shiny coat. Apparently this little waif was a Border Collie x Rottweiler....hmm right. It transpires she is a B/Collie x Kelpie x who knows what. I have said all along I would not get a Kelpie/cross. Too busy, too much stimulation but of course when you are in love with your pup you don't return her do you?
Megatron Destructopuppy is our newest member of the family. She is now seven months old and a beautiful natured beast that sometimes tests my ability to keep patience, as puppies do. More about her later. Roger the Dodger, it turns out, has dementia which also accounted for his strange and quiet moods. He is 11 years old and it seems he is ageing quickly.
Farewell Layla Greyhound.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Bicycle Banzai
Picture it:
Me riding a borrowed and geared bike pumping my almost shaved legs like pistons down a country road like a woman possessed. It was a sight to behold. The anguish on my face, the sweat on my helmeted brow, the matching orange shirt and Dunlop Volleys warning all in my way to "stand aside! Mad woman coming through". Well, you can picture it but the anguish on my face was from the God-awful seat I was sitting on. Bike was outstanding - those gears are looking mighty attractive I tell you - but the seat has to go. I am so-o-o saddle sore. My pubic bones HATE me, and those bones can be bloody spiteful man!
Oh and on the way back that kamikaze magpie/black and white piece of flying poo came gunning for my orange shirt. Scared the crap outta me. BUT I BOUGHT THE SHIRT TO RIDE IN AND I AM GOING TO WEAR IT (until I go on that run again, then I am changing it).
Our fearless leader and torture expert has suggested we get fit for a 100km charity ride next October...ooh, I don't know. I would have to shave my legs AND armpits... at the same time. Would my bright orange Dunlop Volleys cope with the mileage? Are there magpies on this run? Do they supply skinny choc milkshakes at the pit stops? So much to consider, so much to weigh up. Stay tuned. Who knows.
I do love my bike riding though. Great company, great exercise and beautiful country. We saw lots of koalas and their babies on this run, beautiful flowers in bloom in the paddocks and happy and healthy cattle and horses. It does not get any better.
Me riding a borrowed and geared bike pumping my almost shaved legs like pistons down a country road like a woman possessed. It was a sight to behold. The anguish on my face, the sweat on my helmeted brow, the matching orange shirt and Dunlop Volleys warning all in my way to "stand aside! Mad woman coming through". Well, you can picture it but the anguish on my face was from the God-awful seat I was sitting on. Bike was outstanding - those gears are looking mighty attractive I tell you - but the seat has to go. I am so-o-o saddle sore. My pubic bones HATE me, and those bones can be bloody spiteful man!
Oh and on the way back that kamikaze magpie/black and white piece of flying poo came gunning for my orange shirt. Scared the crap outta me. BUT I BOUGHT THE SHIRT TO RIDE IN AND I AM GOING TO WEAR IT (until I go on that run again, then I am changing it).
Our fearless leader and torture expert has suggested we get fit for a 100km charity ride next October...ooh, I don't know. I would have to shave my legs AND armpits... at the same time. Would my bright orange Dunlop Volleys cope with the mileage? Are there magpies on this run? Do they supply skinny choc milkshakes at the pit stops? So much to consider, so much to weigh up. Stay tuned. Who knows.
I do love my bike riding though. Great company, great exercise and beautiful country. We saw lots of koalas and their babies on this run, beautiful flowers in bloom in the paddocks and happy and healthy cattle and horses. It does not get any better.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Deadly Red Treadly
I have recently joined a social bicycle riding club. Well, there is four of us now anyway. I ride with my friend about every fortnight on weekends but this will be every week while she is at work.
I have a "ladies" bike, no gears, wicker basket and a nice comfy seat. It is red so it goes faster. I bought it from a department store in a box and we put it together.
I am riding with real women who ride real bikes with real gears and those slinky riding jerseys. I wear my pink Dunlop Volleys, leggings and over sized man's shirt. Man I look hot!! (Not).
I think the woman who takes us is gobsmacked - no gears? What is that about? You can see the lack of comprehension in her bulging eyes as she stares at the foreign body that is my deadly red treadly. It does have hand brakes...
Anyway, we had our ride. They took it quite slow until I enquired if this was their normal pace...it was so-o-o slow. I think they thought my bike was handicapped. Once the pace picked up a bit it was lovely. Chatting, riding, chatting, dodging swooping, nest protecting magpies and spying mother koalas in the road side trees. Beautiful. I did ask for a couple of drinks stops, we red bike riders get thirsty.
On the way back I started to fatigue. We red bike riders tire when riding against the wind but I made it back and was amazed to find out that we had ridden a whole 19km!! Woohoo, I am so impressed with myself. I survived the ride with NO gears.
I shall ride again with these real women. Maybe they will convert me to gears, maybe not. But I shall ride the deadly red treadly with a comfy seat with pride, puffing and panting and peddling for all I am worth.
I have a "ladies" bike, no gears, wicker basket and a nice comfy seat. It is red so it goes faster. I bought it from a department store in a box and we put it together.
I am riding with real women who ride real bikes with real gears and those slinky riding jerseys. I wear my pink Dunlop Volleys, leggings and over sized man's shirt. Man I look hot!! (Not).
I think the woman who takes us is gobsmacked - no gears? What is that about? You can see the lack of comprehension in her bulging eyes as she stares at the foreign body that is my deadly red treadly. It does have hand brakes...
Anyway, we had our ride. They took it quite slow until I enquired if this was their normal pace...it was so-o-o slow. I think they thought my bike was handicapped. Once the pace picked up a bit it was lovely. Chatting, riding, chatting, dodging swooping, nest protecting magpies and spying mother koalas in the road side trees. Beautiful. I did ask for a couple of drinks stops, we red bike riders get thirsty.
On the way back I started to fatigue. We red bike riders tire when riding against the wind but I made it back and was amazed to find out that we had ridden a whole 19km!! Woohoo, I am so impressed with myself. I survived the ride with NO gears.
I shall ride again with these real women. Maybe they will convert me to gears, maybe not. But I shall ride the deadly red treadly with a comfy seat with pride, puffing and panting and peddling for all I am worth.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Bee Gees & Housework
The Bee Gees, Their Greatest Hits, Disc 2: Cleaning the house with this music this morning I was a sight to see.
Striding down my newly vacuumed hall in my 80s ski jacket and unruly mop of hair to STAYIN’ ALIVE…no beard though.
Purple tracksuit clad bum swaying to the song MORE THAN A WOMAN as I sing loudly into the toilet bowl.
Reaching up to the shower rose with a pained expression on my face as I belt out the chorus of HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE.
Sweeping the detritus from my laundry floor and bopping around the sweeper to YOU WIN AGAIN.
And finally collapsing into my camping recliner in the sun of the back veranda and singing with weakening energy to GUILTY with Barbara Streisand and Bazza. I sat through EMOTION and HEARTBREAKER before I decided enough was enough.
All the while my 19 year old son, who has been warned of the housework concert, is clamped under his doona, hoodie stretched over his head and most probably grimacing to my dulcet tones.
If you gotta’ do the housework, and eventually you do, it is not a bad way to do it.
Just love their stuff, talented little Vegemites that they be.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Brain Injury Anniversary - Whoa 7 years?
That anniversary snuck up on me a tad, wow it has been 7 years since I did the head plant from the back of my horse. 7 years of highs and lows, but mostly highs.
I think I can safely assume that I will not make a full recovery any time soon. I still have minor short term memory loss, concentration issues and just a LOT OF FATIGUE! Not that it bothers me to have to sleep for an hour an a half every day, go to bed at 9.30 each night or suffer the consequences and heaven forbid if I spend too much time concentrating on anything because my brain goes onto Confusion Mode. Aaah but it is all good really. I have learnt patience, sometimes inner peace and acceptance. I am not complaining, just making fun of it.
Funny story: I met someone the other night who I recognised and they me but neither of us spoke for a few minutes until the penny dropped. She is another brain injured soul and we laughed when we realised our mutual quandary. This Fellow Headcase is only 2.5 years into the recovery - huh amateur! And, me thinks is still fighting the affects of the difficulties associated with her injury, unfortunately. I first talked with her when I was asked to meet her approximately 12 months after her injury by my ex-brain injury counsellor and I do remember thinking that she is not taking this lying down (so to speak). I also fought my injury but in the end you have to accept what is and I feel she is not quite there yet. We women are stubborn creatures. I also feel that she looks at me and my "limitations" and dreads the thought of being me in years to come.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
A Conversation with My Teenage Son
Can I have the car today mum?
What time do you need it till? I am going to Photography tonight and it finishes at 9.
Well I am hanging with friends today and then we are going to the movies. It doesn't finish till 9.15.
Good, you can pick me up.
I was kinda' hoping to hang out with my mates for a while afterwards.
Well then I need the car. You will have to make other arrangements.
(Some thought and contemplation ensues).
Why don't you think about it for a while.
(10 minutes later).
OK I will take the car and pick you up.
Right then, thanks.
I am leaving at about 9 this morning.
Great. Can you take the recyclables in please?
But it is raining!
Yeah.
Have you put them in the car?
(Jaw drops). No. I am in my slippers. You put them in the car.
But I am taking them in.
Yeah, in my car.
But I pay $20 petrol money every week.
(Look at him)
OK, I will. (Look of defeat and disappointment).
(I walk away, smiling at the amusement of this whole conversation). "Have you put them in the car?" HUH!
What time do you need it till? I am going to Photography tonight and it finishes at 9.
Well I am hanging with friends today and then we are going to the movies. It doesn't finish till 9.15.
Good, you can pick me up.
I was kinda' hoping to hang out with my mates for a while afterwards.
Well then I need the car. You will have to make other arrangements.
(Some thought and contemplation ensues).
Why don't you think about it for a while.
(10 minutes later).
OK I will take the car and pick you up.
Right then, thanks.
I am leaving at about 9 this morning.
Great. Can you take the recyclables in please?
But it is raining!
Yeah.
Have you put them in the car?
(Jaw drops). No. I am in my slippers. You put them in the car.
But I am taking them in.
Yeah, in my car.
But I pay $20 petrol money every week.
(Look at him)
OK, I will. (Look of defeat and disappointment).
(I walk away, smiling at the amusement of this whole conversation). "Have you put them in the car?" HUH!
Monday, May 7, 2012
25th Wedding Anniversary
The Lovely Husband and I are about to hit this milestone, this month. Woohoo! We made it. What a ride!
We celebrated yesterday by going for a relaxed walk along the beach, there were children playing and screaming in the shallows, dogs running after thrown sticks, beautiful sunshine, rolling waves, it was all so perfect (it is autumn here in Oz). On our way back I took some photos with my phone, we took the exit and stood at the lookout at the top of the sand dunes, we kissed, so romantic.
It was the wrong exit. Our car was no where to be seen.
Back on the beach, the sun is shining, dogs playing etc etc (look out for the dog poos) and the next exit was in fact the right one this time. Went for a drive to a local and usually relaxed seaside town, some big event on and the traffic was gridlocked. OK, we turned around and drove straight to the fancy schmancy cafe in the countryside we had booked for this auspicious occasion.
Table for two, lovely outlook, amazing menu, oh I feel like a wine. I drink preservative free wine which is never on any menu but oh look it is on the fancy schmancy menu. Oh yeah, how groovy is that? Never heard of this one but it is a chardonnay, we can share that. What is that number 220 next to it....is that? No-o-o, it can't be. Is that 220 number in dollars? Nice waitress confirms that that is in fact $220. Holy Crap! I'll drink water thanks. What about a cocktail...hmmm, very schmancy again, and I now know what the numbers are and for $15 for a teeny tiny glass of brightly coloured booze I will drink water thanks. 25 years or not I have my limits. The Lovely Husband went all out and ordered sparkling water! Phew, what a wild man. I drank tap water with my single prawn entree wrapped in beautiful flavours and a leaf! I drank tap water with my pork belly done in the most beautiful marinade and tender to boot. The tap water was particularly nice with the biscotti I had for dessert, mmmm, yum.
The arrangement for that night was for the offspring to cook dinner which they did. Crumbed lamb cutlets, chips and store bought shredded salad with sachet of dressing. A glass of wine from our fridge and the company of our beautiful children, aaah, it does not get better than that. Dessert was a supermarket apple pie with a carton of custard.
On our anniversary day we will have apricot chicken. The Lovely Husband wooed me with that one all those years ago.
The simple pleasures in life do not have to be fancy or schmancy or cost $220. They can be as simple as a French Onion Soup sachet, a tin of apricot nectar and chicken pieces, baked and served with rice.
You may read this and think, hmmm, these country hicks are far from sophisticated but I say who gives a sloppy cow pat! We have made 25 years and we still have a lot of years to go, many more crumbed lamb cutlets, more servings of apricot chicken but no where on this earth will I ever have a bottle of $220 chardonnay.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The P Plater
Phew! He Drives!
Despite popular opinion teenagers are OK. My Young Negotiator (18 1/2 yo) has just gotten his driver's licence and as every parent knows this is an anxious time for us. Will they crash and die some horrible death, get booked and have to be driven everywhere again, break down in the middle of the night and call us up for advice/help/solace? But we parents have to let go, tough on me but do-able. In fact it has been better than I thought.
On the day he passed his driving test I had a dinner and show to go to that night. Kate Miller-Heidke is EXCELLENT by the way. Bloody fantastic concert, but I digress. Dinner in a noisy restaurant and then a music concert is a big deal for my brain injured noggin, causing fatigue and unsteadiness on feet because of sensory overload so driving is a no-no for me in this situation. I asked my newly appointed driver-son to drop me off and pick me up later which he readily agreed to. We have an extra teen in house at moment, his friend the Country Lad, and both boys escorted me to town in my car and dropped me off. I held each lad by the shoulder, looked straight into their eyes and told them sternly "DO NOT MUCK AROUND IN THE CAR". This would be the Young Negotiator's first drive without a responsible adult. I know right?
Dinner was fantastic but expensive, concert was FANTASTIC, did I mention that? Kate Miller-Heidke is one talented Vegemite, and funny to boot. My mobile was on silent but twice during the concert it 'rang' vibrated. I ignored it, I was out man! The show finished quite late (for me) and as pre-arranged I texted the Driver-son to pick me up. No reply. Great, he has his music up too loud. Oh shame mother, shut your mouth, he and the Country Lad were already there waiting for me. It was he who rang me twice during the show to see if I was ready to be picked up. I was thrilled to see them alive and undamaged.
In the car I was relegated to the back seat, the driving team up front were 'men' and I was the passenger. My worries of them fooling around while driving were also squashed. They were working as a team. The Country Lad is still on his Learner's permit and he was the Driver-Son's extra eyes. He pointed out to the Driver-Son that he was "still in neutral you idiot" when the car failed to reverse out of the parking spot. Mind you the Country Lad also had a small torch in hand to shine on the T-bar gear stick because the light showing you which gear you are in has been dead for years.
They made me laugh when they complained to me that the car did not have a CD player in it (the car is too old for such modern technology) and there is no where to plug in an MP3.
The two teens worked together on driving carefully but we also talked and laughed in the car. I am so impressed with them. I know the Driver-Son will make mistakes, have (hopefully) small bingles and still need our guidance in the car but we all needed that at their age. Phew, the initial stages have been low stress but I am sure there will be exceptions to this. There are three drivers in our family and only two cars so there will be juggling and compromise from all of us. It is a thrill to have our Young Negotiator driving. Unfortunately, we have to start again with the Dynamic Daughter in a couple of months but that is life.
Have I mentioned to you how BLOODY FANTASTIC Kate Miller-Heidke was?
Despite popular opinion teenagers are OK. My Young Negotiator (18 1/2 yo) has just gotten his driver's licence and as every parent knows this is an anxious time for us. Will they crash and die some horrible death, get booked and have to be driven everywhere again, break down in the middle of the night and call us up for advice/help/solace? But we parents have to let go, tough on me but do-able. In fact it has been better than I thought.
On the day he passed his driving test I had a dinner and show to go to that night. Kate Miller-Heidke is EXCELLENT by the way. Bloody fantastic concert, but I digress. Dinner in a noisy restaurant and then a music concert is a big deal for my brain injured noggin, causing fatigue and unsteadiness on feet because of sensory overload so driving is a no-no for me in this situation. I asked my newly appointed driver-son to drop me off and pick me up later which he readily agreed to. We have an extra teen in house at moment, his friend the Country Lad, and both boys escorted me to town in my car and dropped me off. I held each lad by the shoulder, looked straight into their eyes and told them sternly "DO NOT MUCK AROUND IN THE CAR". This would be the Young Negotiator's first drive without a responsible adult. I know right?
Dinner was fantastic but expensive, concert was FANTASTIC, did I mention that? Kate Miller-Heidke is one talented Vegemite, and funny to boot. My mobile was on silent but twice during the concert it 'rang' vibrated. I ignored it, I was out man! The show finished quite late (for me) and as pre-arranged I texted the Driver-son to pick me up. No reply. Great, he has his music up too loud. Oh shame mother, shut your mouth, he and the Country Lad were already there waiting for me. It was he who rang me twice during the show to see if I was ready to be picked up. I was thrilled to see them alive and undamaged.
In the car I was relegated to the back seat, the driving team up front were 'men' and I was the passenger. My worries of them fooling around while driving were also squashed. They were working as a team. The Country Lad is still on his Learner's permit and he was the Driver-Son's extra eyes. He pointed out to the Driver-Son that he was "still in neutral you idiot" when the car failed to reverse out of the parking spot. Mind you the Country Lad also had a small torch in hand to shine on the T-bar gear stick because the light showing you which gear you are in has been dead for years.
They made me laugh when they complained to me that the car did not have a CD player in it (the car is too old for such modern technology) and there is no where to plug in an MP3.
The two teens worked together on driving carefully but we also talked and laughed in the car. I am so impressed with them. I know the Driver-Son will make mistakes, have (hopefully) small bingles and still need our guidance in the car but we all needed that at their age. Phew, the initial stages have been low stress but I am sure there will be exceptions to this. There are three drivers in our family and only two cars so there will be juggling and compromise from all of us. It is a thrill to have our Young Negotiator driving. Unfortunately, we have to start again with the Dynamic Daughter in a couple of months but that is life.
Have I mentioned to you how BLOODY FANTASTIC Kate Miller-Heidke was?
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A Proud Proud Mother
Have I bragged enough about my offspring? Nope, got more of it.
The Dynamic Daughter is in an important year at high school. Year 11 involves lots of work towards the HSC and she is attacking it like a woman possessed. She also has her out-of-school drama lessons. That amazing teenager has also taken on a fundraising effort for her trip, with a group of teens, to a developing country where they will trek for days, do volunteer work in a village and play tourist at the end. A huge undertaking for these young people as they have to make the decisions, source their accommodation, food and transport in-country. It is a team and character building challenge which is not meant to be easy or simple. And they will be helping those less fortunate then themselves. Wow! I am in awe. It is expensive and the costs have to be met by fundraising/own pocket and she has taken this on with gusto.
I am certain I was not mature or confident enough to take this sort of thing on at her age. I believe the youth of today are amazing.
The Dynamic Daughter and her friend the Curly Headed Young Man, who is also going, ran a trivia night recently in our little country community hall and what a success it was. I was not allowed to help. The Old Cheese (my mother) and I were allowed to cook and supply food but the two teens completely ran it themselves. All teams had excellent fun and at the end everyone helped pack up the hall and clean it. The community spirit was outstanding. They raised a gross total of $730!
My team were not allowed to win and so with great restraint we came nearly last. The things we do for our children.
Just to add to the Dynamic Daughter's workload she has also become a youth ambassador for the local performing arts industry.
And...she wants to organise her 16th birthday party. Phew, I am exhausted. Oh, that's right it is not about me (damn!).
We had an excellent parent teacher interview night recently and so all is going swimmingly. I am mildly concerned (as are a couple of her teachers) that she will crash and burn with all this pressure upon her. She has had issues with anxiety and depression in the past and she is cyclothymic which means she can have extreme highs and lows but we talk with her about it and try our best to keep communications open. Well, as open as a teenager wants to be with their parents anyway. Hopefully with maturity comes better ways of dealing with these pressures and as parents, all we can do is be there for our babies........err sorry, teenagers. Slipped into smother mode there.
The Dynamic Daughter and the Curly Haired Young Man are holding a high tea soon, another fundraiser. I offered to come and do the washing up and was met with stone cold silence (crickets chirping). Okay-y-y. Only if you want I plead. Silence. Hmmm, is the thought of something so elegant and ladylike impossible to imagine with me in the room? Aaaahhh! I am an uncouth slob obviously.
Have I told you how proud I am? Oh, alright. Good luck Dynamic Daughter!
The Dynamic Daughter is in an important year at high school. Year 11 involves lots of work towards the HSC and she is attacking it like a woman possessed. She also has her out-of-school drama lessons. That amazing teenager has also taken on a fundraising effort for her trip, with a group of teens, to a developing country where they will trek for days, do volunteer work in a village and play tourist at the end. A huge undertaking for these young people as they have to make the decisions, source their accommodation, food and transport in-country. It is a team and character building challenge which is not meant to be easy or simple. And they will be helping those less fortunate then themselves. Wow! I am in awe. It is expensive and the costs have to be met by fundraising/own pocket and she has taken this on with gusto.
I am certain I was not mature or confident enough to take this sort of thing on at her age. I believe the youth of today are amazing.
The Dynamic Daughter and her friend the Curly Headed Young Man, who is also going, ran a trivia night recently in our little country community hall and what a success it was. I was not allowed to help. The Old Cheese (my mother) and I were allowed to cook and supply food but the two teens completely ran it themselves. All teams had excellent fun and at the end everyone helped pack up the hall and clean it. The community spirit was outstanding. They raised a gross total of $730!
My team were not allowed to win and so with great restraint we came nearly last. The things we do for our children.
Just to add to the Dynamic Daughter's workload she has also become a youth ambassador for the local performing arts industry.
And...she wants to organise her 16th birthday party. Phew, I am exhausted. Oh, that's right it is not about me (damn!).
We had an excellent parent teacher interview night recently and so all is going swimmingly. I am mildly concerned (as are a couple of her teachers) that she will crash and burn with all this pressure upon her. She has had issues with anxiety and depression in the past and she is cyclothymic which means she can have extreme highs and lows but we talk with her about it and try our best to keep communications open. Well, as open as a teenager wants to be with their parents anyway. Hopefully with maturity comes better ways of dealing with these pressures and as parents, all we can do is be there for our babies........err sorry, teenagers. Slipped into smother mode there.
The Dynamic Daughter and the Curly Haired Young Man are holding a high tea soon, another fundraiser. I offered to come and do the washing up and was met with stone cold silence (crickets chirping). Okay-y-y. Only if you want I plead. Silence. Hmmm, is the thought of something so elegant and ladylike impossible to imagine with me in the room? Aaaahhh! I am an uncouth slob obviously.
Have I told you how proud I am? Oh, alright. Good luck Dynamic Daughter!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Brain Goes to Mush
OK, I told you I stuffed up my colonoscopy appointment month, and I accused my mobile of not charging when I didn't have the plug turned on, well... there is more. Sigh. My brain has become mashed peas with the occasional floatie piece of soggy white bread (no substance). Let me list them for you.
- I am allowed 200MB data a month on my mobile plan. I usually don't even get close to that usage but this month I was panicking. Oh my God, after 3 days into the new month my data usage was soaring. I switched everything off, apps, updates...what had I done? I had no idea. When it got over 245 I was going to lose the plot, such as it is. Then, I realised it was counting in KB not MB. Derr sister! When it got to 1MB I had to laugh.
- Bought a shopping basket to attach to the carry rack of my push bike. Oh yeah, she was a beauty, simple to install and would carry my stuff. Only, I decided to install it when my poor brain was already strained from too many scathingly brilliant ideas racing through it. First go, I attached the four screws and washers to the to mounting plates beneath the basket. Fiddly but not overtaxing. Easy. Except when I was finished, the basket was not, in fact, attached to the carry rack. Oh the mounting plates were attached alright but they were completely separate from the rack. Yep I could see the problem straight away because I am that clever. But Mrs Fixit/Never Say Die/Too Proud to Ask for Help tried again. Second time I incorporated the rack and it was definitely attached this time but the brackets were facing the wrong direction. Sigh. Third time I had the basket attached to the rack, the brackets in the right direction and voila! So proud. Eventually.
- Soul Sister and I went bike riding on a designated bike track in another town recently. It was a long, long ride and because we talk, talk, talk and laugh, laugh, laugh and carry on like pork chops I was exhausted by the time we finished. As we were installing the bikes onto my bike rack Soul Sister realised I was having trouble finding my words. A sure sign that my brain was in another dimension. I was a bit wobbly on my feet so she asked me gently if she could do the driving. Oh yeah, you know what, that is not a bad idea. Huh! Utter brilliance. Soul Sister was moving into survival mode obviously, she wanted to arrive home in one piece. Fussy.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I'm So-o-o-o Embarrassed
This will make you laugh. It is embarrassing but it is funny. In my previous post I talked about starving, dying etc. Well, it is not strictly true anymore. Now remember that I have a brain injury (that old chestnut) and am approaching the age of menopause and am a busy mum with lots on my plate, so to speak, pun intended. Let's not consider the fact that I might be a goose, a dimwit, a total lame brain. Let's just leave the name calling aside and blame my age or brain or motherhood.
This afternoon I phoned the day surgery about my colonoscopy tomorrow to confirm a time as you do. Luckily it was before I took the first Drano solution to empty out my digestive tract. It appears I read the date wrong and my procedure is not until the beginning of next month. Oops. All that complaining, all that suffering, all that clear liquid and it was for naught. And, I gotta' do it again next month. Wow.
But what really has me tossing down the chocolate biscuits is when I phoned the Lovely Husband (and I use the term loosely) to tell him of my mistake he turns around and proceeds to share with his workmates, all of them. Oh how funny it was, he thought. Then, I say, then, he tells them about how about two weeks ago I was bitching and complaining about my relatively new mobile phone not working, not charging and I was going to deal with the stupid phone company, the stupid contract I was locked in, the stupid charger. Except when I went to unplug it, I saw that I had not actually turned it on at the power point. Duhh! Needless to say, the phone is fine, the phone company unharmed and the charger functioning normally. Unlike my head. Sigh.
Must go eat now, I have some serious catching up to do. It will not consist of jelly, clear soup or yet more water.
This afternoon I phoned the day surgery about my colonoscopy tomorrow to confirm a time as you do. Luckily it was before I took the first Drano solution to empty out my digestive tract. It appears I read the date wrong and my procedure is not until the beginning of next month. Oops. All that complaining, all that suffering, all that clear liquid and it was for naught. And, I gotta' do it again next month. Wow.
But what really has me tossing down the chocolate biscuits is when I phoned the Lovely Husband (and I use the term loosely) to tell him of my mistake he turns around and proceeds to share with his workmates, all of them. Oh how funny it was, he thought. Then, I say, then, he tells them about how about two weeks ago I was bitching and complaining about my relatively new mobile phone not working, not charging and I was going to deal with the stupid phone company, the stupid contract I was locked in, the stupid charger. Except when I went to unplug it, I saw that I had not actually turned it on at the power point. Duhh! Needless to say, the phone is fine, the phone company unharmed and the charger functioning normally. Unlike my head. Sigh.
Must go eat now, I have some serious catching up to do. It will not consist of jelly, clear soup or yet more water.
I'm Star-r-r-rving
OK, I am about to share more than I would usually but I need the distraction. Just warning you.
Tomorrow I am having a colonoscopy. Yep, one of those lovelies. So yesterday I had to not eat fruit, fibre, veggies, red meat etc. I could have low fat dairy and lean white meat. That's alright. I can cope.
Today, I am allowed no solids, no milk products, no food! I am allowed clear liquids eg. clear juices, jelly, strained chicken noodle soup. That sort of thing. Holy Crap! (Get it?) Food is so-o-o important to me. This is killing me. (Slight exaggeration, only slight).
This afternoon I have to consume some stuff, some dosed water, some chemical that will empty my bowel like a good dose of salmonella poisoning, like an Enyo cloth for the inside, like a fire hose has been shoved down my throat and will straighten out my small and large intestines. (Again, I don't exaggerate greatly). Holy, holy CRAP!
Help.
Tomorrow, I have to have nothing four hours before procedure. I think I have said it all. My life is HELL. Hell I tell you. Of course, this comes from a spoilt woman who considers food to be the staple of her life (funny about that).
I will survive. I am a survivor. I didn't say I wasn't a whinger. I also didn't say I don't feel sorry for myself. I certainly would never say I enjoy starving to death. But I do like a good exaggeration.
Tomorrow I am having a colonoscopy. Yep, one of those lovelies. So yesterday I had to not eat fruit, fibre, veggies, red meat etc. I could have low fat dairy and lean white meat. That's alright. I can cope.
Today, I am allowed no solids, no milk products, no food! I am allowed clear liquids eg. clear juices, jelly, strained chicken noodle soup. That sort of thing. Holy Crap! (Get it?) Food is so-o-o important to me. This is killing me. (Slight exaggeration, only slight).
This afternoon I have to consume some stuff, some dosed water, some chemical that will empty my bowel like a good dose of salmonella poisoning, like an Enyo cloth for the inside, like a fire hose has been shoved down my throat and will straighten out my small and large intestines. (Again, I don't exaggerate greatly). Holy, holy CRAP!
Help.
Tomorrow, I have to have nothing four hours before procedure. I think I have said it all. My life is HELL. Hell I tell you. Of course, this comes from a spoilt woman who considers food to be the staple of her life (funny about that).
I will survive. I am a survivor. I didn't say I wasn't a whinger. I also didn't say I don't feel sorry for myself. I certainly would never say I enjoy starving to death. But I do like a good exaggeration.
The Unemployed Teenager
The Young Negotiator is 18 and out of school for good. He knows not what he wants to do with his life. For now he needs a job, a paying job so he can live, spend, have fun and think about his future. I have noticed the teenagers in this predicament all think they will get that job and be done with it. We do not live near a big city. There are many, many teenagers who left school and are looking for work, untrained and inexperienced teenagers. Their confidence was admirable but now reality is sinking in and there are many, many unemployed teenagers.
My answer? Volunteer! The Young Negotiator was told if he did not find paying work he would be doing volunteer work for charity. He has his casual job with a large chain supermarket but the shifts are few and far between. But three days a week he has work, two days in one Opportunity Shop and one day in another. It took some encouragement (pushing) but it is working quite well. In the two day a week job he is actually being trained in retail and they are very happy with him and his attitude. They often get young people 'volunteering' because they want to continue to receive govt. benefits or for community service and their attitude can be less than enthusiastic apparently. The Supervisors think him marvellous for volunteering (he failed to mention his pushy mother) and his confidence is building. Even the Young Negotiator can see the benefits now. In the one day a week Op Shop he is one of three men to go out in the furniture truck picking up and delivering second hand furniture, TVs (the older, far heavier type) and various donated goods.
The Young Negotiator is an Extreme Book Worm, Computer Gaming Freak, Card Playing Jockey. He does not, in normal circumstances, move furniture/TVs. This experience has been an eye opener for the skin and bones we call our son.
First Week:
"I really think they need to update their OH & S information Mum. That stuff is heavy!"
I remain outwardly neutral. Inwardly I giggle at the thought of my poor young man doing hard work.
Second Week:
"I'm exhausted. I don't know if I will keep this up. There are some people working there who don't want to be there. It is a bit depressing"
Aaah, welcome to the work force sunshine.
Third Week:
"I still don't like it but I think I will stick with it for the moment"
What's that? A bit of resilience coming through?
Fourth Week:
"Look at my hands, I have calluses!!!"
Mmmm, I had them as a child from riding my bike all day.
The Young Negotiator has decided he does not want to work in the furniture moving industry.
He is learning and even admits, after direct questioning (the only way to get information), that it is a good thing. He can definitely see the benefits and has improved his resume and his references with this experience.
I love that kid and he cracks me up but the Young Negotiator will survive the work force with a new appreciation of how lucky he is, how to get along with all kinds of people and that experience matters and calluses are not the end of the world as we know it.
My answer? Volunteer! The Young Negotiator was told if he did not find paying work he would be doing volunteer work for charity. He has his casual job with a large chain supermarket but the shifts are few and far between. But three days a week he has work, two days in one Opportunity Shop and one day in another. It took some encouragement (pushing) but it is working quite well. In the two day a week job he is actually being trained in retail and they are very happy with him and his attitude. They often get young people 'volunteering' because they want to continue to receive govt. benefits or for community service and their attitude can be less than enthusiastic apparently. The Supervisors think him marvellous for volunteering (he failed to mention his pushy mother) and his confidence is building. Even the Young Negotiator can see the benefits now. In the one day a week Op Shop he is one of three men to go out in the furniture truck picking up and delivering second hand furniture, TVs (the older, far heavier type) and various donated goods.
The Young Negotiator is an Extreme Book Worm, Computer Gaming Freak, Card Playing Jockey. He does not, in normal circumstances, move furniture/TVs. This experience has been an eye opener for the skin and bones we call our son.
First Week:
"I really think they need to update their OH & S information Mum. That stuff is heavy!"
I remain outwardly neutral. Inwardly I giggle at the thought of my poor young man doing hard work.
Second Week:
"I'm exhausted. I don't know if I will keep this up. There are some people working there who don't want to be there. It is a bit depressing"
Aaah, welcome to the work force sunshine.
Third Week:
"I still don't like it but I think I will stick with it for the moment"
What's that? A bit of resilience coming through?
Fourth Week:
"Look at my hands, I have calluses!!!"
Mmmm, I had them as a child from riding my bike all day.
The Young Negotiator has decided he does not want to work in the furniture moving industry.
He is learning and even admits, after direct questioning (the only way to get information), that it is a good thing. He can definitely see the benefits and has improved his resume and his references with this experience.
I love that kid and he cracks me up but the Young Negotiator will survive the work force with a new appreciation of how lucky he is, how to get along with all kinds of people and that experience matters and calluses are not the end of the world as we know it.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Christmas Dessert in Australia
The Old Cheese made the trifle on the left, The Lovely Husband decorated the Pavlova and the Dynamic Daughter made the punch (remains seen in glass). In fact the Dynamic Daughter insisted on doing quite a bit of Christmas lunch so I had it pretty easy. I did make a chili mango lime and prawn salad which was delightful. Of course we stuffed ourselves and all went for the customary after-Christmas-lunch-sleep. It is a hard life but someone has to live it.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Sexy Undies
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Twisted Sister, Dynamic Daughter & Jamie Oliver
While Twisted Sister was here the 15 year old Dynamic Daughter came up with a drinking game while watching Jamie Oliver on TV. Yes I said 15 year old. We were all joking about how Jamie loves his olive oil "me ol' mate" and salt "just a bit of" with nearly all savoury dishes. I am sure if he could find a reason he would put them into sweet stuff as well. So DD suggested we have a drink every time he uses olive oil or salt, no brainer really. Her poison was lemonade in shot glasses (there was more on the table than in the glass) and I am ashamed to say that my drink of choice at the time was water with a slice of lemon in it. Not a very dangerous game eh? But a lot of laughter ensued and excited shouts of "SALT SALT SALT" or "OIL" could be heard across the hills and valleys. So from now on Friday nights will be in front of Jamie with a drink and shot glasses ready for "me ol' mate" and salt. Aaah, we know how to live wild here in the country. Never a dull moment, always a laugh and I would say quite full bladders on Friday nights with Jamie.
Twisted Sister and the Dynamic Daughter are both into Facebook and often keep up to date with each other that way. One night, in the one house, in fact in the one room, they caught up with each other on Facebook, as you do. Has conversation become so-o-o tiresome?
Twisted Sister has gone home, free range eggs packed in her luggage and my recipe for chicken schnitzel in her head, (Oh boy!). No doubt we will see her again in the ever excitng country shouting "SALT", "OIL" or possibly "FACEBOOK".
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sewing Room
OK, this little bag is my "sewing room". I cannot sew to save myself and Soul Sister and I recently had a work Christmas Party outfit to make as you can see and this is what I found in my kit. Not very impressive eh? We have made two halves of a bonbon/cracker with a wire frame and the cheapest material buyable had to be sewn onto the frame. We sat and nattered while we sewed. "So howya' been?" We laughed and made rude jokes out of absolutely nothing but Soul Sister can actually sew and was using 'blanket stitch'. I on the other hand winged it and called it 'mattress stitch'. Why? Dunno, just came to me. Unfortunately the mattress stitch was an abysmal failure and I had to re-sew everything again the next day. No worries, it only has to survive one night and then it can fall apart all it likes. I may be able to waffle till the cows come home but sewing is like a foreign language to me. We will have fun though.
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