Monday, April 17, 2017

Happy



Real happy.

Having a replacement hip has helped.

I have less pain and worry. I didn't know what to expect when I had to have the operation.

I made the house ready for when I returned home. Filled the cupboards and freezers full with food so I wouldn't have to bother family and friends to help.

I now know what to expect when the next operation comes. Not sure if it will be a knee or the other hip.

I have just been to visit my GP to check my blood pressure. It was too low after the OP. Then high. I was put back on my medication. I was told I have the pressure of a twenty year old.

I have started back to my writing. I waited until the clouds cleared out of my head. While I have been resting, I searched for a publisher for my novels. I found one that sounds interesting. I made some inquiries. Sent one piece to see what I head back.

I have been clearing the weeds from the garden in between work, crocheting, writing and resting. I have only been back driving for a couple of weeks so life is slow. I am trying not to over book where people want me to go.

Its rest time. I'm going to have a little catnap.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Trip photos









These are some of the photos I took when I went on a bus trip a week ago. The day was suppose to be different in destination but the area we were to go to had rain. Roads were dirt and deemed unsafe to take a bus to the area we planned to see. We plan to have another attempt in another few weeks if the weather stays fine.

Or I don't get a call up to go to the hospital. I have moved up the ladder a bit. Last week I went to visit the surgeon so I am now on the operating list. Well. Three lists over the next year. Right hip. Left hip. Left knee. I may have to go through a lot of pain but at least I won't have to live with daily pain like I do now. I keep describing the pain in the knee to severe tooth ache.

I have been slowly working my way through what I should do before I can't do work. In my spell time I am either working to finish the novel; crocheting and computer work. And have food cooked and in the freezer for when I come home from hospital.

I had a rough night and am feeling tired. I did mow the last few strips of the back lawn which I didn't finish yesterday. The mower ran out of petrol. And I run out of energy. The sky is clouding over so I might have just finished in time.

A friend gave me a beautiful pineapple yesterday. The smell was ambrosia. Really sweet and juicy. I peeled it and had a slice with my meal. It was so tasty I could have polished off the lot. I hid it in the spare fridge out of sight to make it last. I have to be careful when selecting a pineapple because some have too much acid for me to eat.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Winter bug struck


The winter bug caught up with me. I thought I was going to be free on a cold. When I have the flu needle, I'm usually sick all the time until it wear out of the system. A few weeks ago I went down. I blame all the nightly wee walks. Getting out of a warm bed to go to the toilet.

But some good came out of this problem. Not being well enough to do too much work, I sat to do some crocheting. And writing. I placed the notebook on the table. The wool on the other side. I found doing a boring pattern where I don't have to concentrate, the words flowed.

The top rug I only had to join the squares together. Another member of the group made them. I did the last couple of rows to join them to make the rug.





The next four I did from scratch. I just mixed the colors together. Everyone was surprised I'd finished all this work over three weeks. The lady gave me more wool. This time I have a variety of colors. I have to start building the squares. I don't know how much I'll get done over the next couple of weeks because I have to catch up on my house work. Gardening. If it isn't chilly or wet. I have to find all my clothes and medical records, to pack, because I have to go away to visit the heart specialist.

I also wrote close to 10,000 words to move my novel along. I wrote by hand then transferred it to my computer.

Monday, August 1, 2016

Latest Rug



This is the latest rug I have completed. I took it over to the lady who sends them to different charities. She gives me the wool. Some is donated. Other money is raised by raffling off one of the rugs. There was some discussion on whether to raffle it because the design might bring in more money for wool.

I have started making more squares to join together to make more rugs. I have about four stacks of different sizes. When the right size has been reached I'll join them to make the rug. I might do another one of the same shape once I have finished what I'm working on. It is an easy pattern once you get started. And read the instructions. Properly.

I have been out trying to catch up on the weeds but the back and muscles began to ache. At least I got some done. I will try again tomorrow, or later today, if the clouds forming don't send down rain. In the mean time I will do writing and crocheting.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Rugs





These are a few of the rugs I have been crocheting to be given to those in need. I am with a group who do this. I don't go to the place where they get together. I work at my own pace at home in between doing my work and writing.

My lounge and kitchen, is usually the place where I work. I have rugs at different stages. I have a notebook beside me to work on my stories. I find crocheting clears the mind and helps me to think. Especially if I don't have to concentrate on the pattern. I stop crocheting when I need to add more to the story. At least, I seem to get more done in a day that way. I also break this with doing my housework. Which means. The sheets should be dry for me to go make up the bed.

With a bit of action I might be able to warm up the body.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Ah. My aching back

I' been out putting my Desert Roses into bigger pots. Putting seedling into the smaller ones. I was pleased when the bags of potting mix were empty. Some plants were becoming root bound. I still have a few more to do.

I had planned to try to catch up on some other jobs but the sun has gone under making the day cloudy and cool. Plus the aching back put an end to more work. My body had reached the pain level telling me to quit.

Following are a few photos I took at Pelican Waters over Easter. I took about 300 over five days. I have been busy uploading them to where they have to go. And writing my stories for the month.

I will have past stories to complete shortly. I finally found someone to retrieve lost work from the mother board of the computer which died a couple of years ago.









Saturday, March 21, 2015

Friendship stories




                                             Autumn Leaves


Friendship. Ah. Bummer.
At first glance the topic seemed. Friendly.
I read the first part of the instructions. The enthusiasm faded.
“Ah. Bummer,” was the next words out of my mouth. The brain cells shut down. How was I to write about broken friendships? Not too easy when I slipped in, and out of many towns, during most of my life. There was never a chance to form everlasting connections.
I researched words on the internet to do with friendships. Became more confused the more words I investigated. Even sayings had different interpretations.
“Close as the bark to the tree,” means intimate.
“Go between the bark and the tree,” is meddlesome.
“Hand in glove,” is conspiracy.
Platonic can be construed in different ways.
Finally, I went for association.
I met this lovely gentleman at one of my husband's social gatherings. He played the drums with magic in his hands. What I mean is he could make them talk. He enthralled young, and old, with the way he played.
His favourite piece was to do with a moving train. An old steam train. He'd start off slow with the engine moving away from the railway station. The gathering up of speed. I don't know how he achieved what he did. I had this eerie feeling of the train going around the walls of the hall. The beat of the train matched the beat of the heart. I was aboard the train in my mind until the last beat. Applause was always slow because everyone didn't want to break the emotional journey. I missed the demonstration when he died.
I went on a different emotional journey one Autumn day when I met up with his son. I hadn't had much to do with him in the past. I knew he existed. Never been too friendly with him. He created a bad name for himself after his parents died.
He lost his job because he'd become a drunk. Mixed with other bums. People who had chosen to live that way because of circumstances they were unable to deal with.
The golden Autumn leaves were falling from the tree. A chill wind reached every bone of the body. Not a great time to be sleeping rough. One man I had a feeling came from a privileged family. The second one was rough. The third one I knew.
I was shocked to realise how far he'd fallen. Like an Autumn leaf he'd fallen from grace.
How sad his parents would be?
I thought he carried alcohol in his bag.
I had to hide the shock when he showed me the contents.
Mentholated Spirits.
“Don't tell my father what I'm drinking,” he said.
His addled brain had forgotten.
How was I supposed to tell his father? He was dead.
I walked away. The three seated beneath the tree with leaves dropping on them.
Passed around the bottle. Life forgotten. Crushed to dust like Autumn leaves.









Hidden flaws


I didn't know.
There I sat minding my own business. I was there to do the bookwork for the selling of raffle tickets to raise money for the local ambulance.
I didn't want to be there. I had placed a time limit on my assistance because I didn't want to be seated in the lounge area of the hotel surrounded by. Drunks.
This had been my husband's job before he died.
Mine now. I'd help set up the number of tickets to be sold to make money.
I should have bailed weeks earlier.
I knew that the moment I felt I was being watched. The heat from his eyes burning into my skin. I ignored the silent challenge from him as long as possible. I had to raise my eyes to wait for the number when the wheel was spun.
The darkest brown of devil may care eyes twinkled at me.
I ignored him to carry on with my work.
He was persistent to overcome my not wanting to be the object of his next challenge.
I didn't know his name. Didn't want to.
I had never seen him among my late husband's friends. Trust in a strange wasn't something easy for me. Especially those of the male variety.
Eventually. We became friends.
Big mistake.
Before the heart became involved many of his friends told me all about his flaws. Dalliances. Bits on the side. The line of females he currently bedded. Even those who had husbands. Daughters of friends. At times he couldn't remember which bed he'd spent the night.
Each time we spoke I could feel the proverbial dagger being aimed at my back. This situation was hard on the nervous system because I didn't know when the real one would land. I like to live a peaceable life.
I had to find an outer.
I took a holiday.
My daughter died.
Kept away from places I knew he frequented. I suffered a few health problems, not from the friendship, making work next to impossible.
I had finally found my outer.
I decided to sell my acreage and animals.
I moved away from the area to a different way of life.
New friends.
I kept well away from entanglements.
I love my new life I've fought so hard to find.
The characters in my novels I can do whatever with them without them effecting my life.
But I still enjoy the company of friends when I need a break away back to the real world.
My friends, and family, are only a phone call away.
I had a lucky escape from living another dangerous life.
My first marriage was full of pain and suffering. No way was I going to take the third plunge to live in fear of abuse. Or death.
This time I knew of the flaws. I hit the high road to a peaceful life.









      Emotional Clearance


For sale.
Going cheap.
Give away.
I don't want them any more.
Emotional baggage is too heavy to carry around for too many years. Not very healthy if you let the incident. Or incidents. Eat away at your nervous system until your health starts to suffer. Or your head is a dark place where you are thinking of ending your own life. And the life of others.
I once stood at the crumbling edge of a dark precipice.
Did I jump?
“You're made of sterner stuff. Don't take the next step,” came a gentle voice in my thoughts.
I stood at the crossroad where I had to make a tough decision. By the morning, I was shown a different path.
I'd moved out of the path of death to take the one to live to an old age.
The fear of abuse followed me for years until I found a way to release the pressure. Even though I'd moved on with my life the emotional baggage stayed buried to feed the hate in me for this person who'd crumbled my love to dust.
Time has come for a clearance sale. To clear out the rubbish to move on once again to a brighter life.
I hadn't known the whereabouts of the bane of my emotional destruction. All the hurt he'd caused buried behind walls of rocks.
A chance meeting with a friend, I was told of the area in which he now lives. The state of his health, and that of his wife, I let the last of the walls blast open. I'd never want him for a “best buddy”. I don't wish him ill wills.
I have decided to send him a few photos of the grandchildren he doesn't know about. The choice to cut off contact with his son wasn't made by me. I hadn't stopped any contact. I have never told our children of the damage he caused.
If he decides to bin the photos the loss will be his.
The hands of time have wiped away the last of the emotional baggage I've carried for far too long.
There will never be a great friendship between us. The first slap tore us apart never to be mended.
Time has come for a clearance sale.
I will pass on the information to my son. I have no intention of standing in the way of any contact between them.
Maybe time has come for the both of them to work out what is keeping them apart once given the path for them to chose which way to go. Before time runs out for them to make an attempt to clear away their emotional baggage.






                                       I was always “wrong”


This was my day.
My husband swore to stand by me in our marriage vows.
He crumbled at the first hurdle.
I had gone through all the pain to deliver the first grandchild. A daughter, I had.
Mother-in-law started a war. A war of one-upmanship. Or should that be woman-ship. She had to be the first to buy a present. And the best.
On receiving the phone call to say the baby had arrived she went into action.
My parents drove her to the hospital.
I thought everyone had come to visit me and to see their granddaughter. I'd have lived to have been in the car on the way home to hear what had been said about my decision.
My mother-in-law has beat a haste trip up to the jeweller to buy a bar broach to have the name engraved on it. Right sounding name but, wrong spelling. She had asked the woman who served her how to spell the name.
Wrong spelling. I said so the moment I opened the gift.
I had seen this show year past with the name. I kept the spelling in my mind to use when I needed it. I wanted to spell the name, “Jody”, but I was howled down to be told that was the male way of the name. I fumed beneath wanting to show a peaceful demeanour. Didn't want to cause arguments between family. Or cause a disturbance in the ward.
“Why can't you use the way my mother has it,” said the father, stirring the dormant coals.
“There is no way I'm going to change my mind,” I replied. “She should have waited until she was told the correct way.”
“She wanted to buy the present before my mother.” I could see there was a long rocky road ahead.
She had wanted a daughter when she had her children but ended up with two sons. Now. She could do for her granddaughter what she didn't get to do for a daughter.
The tone for us not having a close relationship had started.
He wasn't her favourite son but she had him tied tight to her apron strings. I always I had married the both of them. What his mother told him was gospel.
Even the nursing sister I took Jody to to be weighed and checked each month, was wrong.
“She's wrong. Doesn't know what she's talking about. Baby powder is made for babies,” was her opinion. “I used the same brand for both my boys. I had no trouble.”
Most babies are born with a different set of D.N.A. What fits one doesn't fit all.
The rash went away with the use of creams.
The battle lines were drawn. There was never a firm friendship between us.
His mother was right even after I walked out years later.
I was always. “Wrong”.
In her eyes.