$10 well spent ...

Saturday morning, the best morning of the week climaxes
with a scrumptious brunch at THE best cafe in Sydney's
inner west. We've eaten at over two dozen cafe's and
each time we thought we'd landed ~ something would go
awry. Bad service, hard eggs, a cold meal, there was
always something that mucked up the treat.

Today we were set to enjoy when a young boy, set himself
up, two shops away and began busking playing a clarinet and
for the first fifteen minutes it was funny but as scales
plus the lack of any recognisable tune it began to grate.
As our brunch arrived, Moi, the shy retiring one, saying
nothing got up from the table and as I walked towards the
boy I looked back to see my mates were aghast ... what
on earth is she doing I could hear them thinking!

As the boy began to pucker, ready regale us with another
bout of a sound somewhere between a cat being killed or him
screaming as I put my hands round his throat I quietly said
to him ..."Excuse me" he stopped blowing and as he smiled I
saw a mouth full of metal " if I gave you $10 would you mind
going and playing somewhere else?". He smiled the most angelic,
metal mouthed smile at me and replied "Sure!".

We laughed and laughed at the thought of the boy going home
to Mum saying "A lady gave me $10" neglecting to mention it
was to go away. We laughed more at the possibility that Mum
had probably had enough too and had told him to go and play
down at the shops.

The girl in Monica's shoppe next door laughed when we told her
then we all laughed more as she said she would have contributed
to get him to move on as even playing the some great clarinet
music full bore couldn't drown out the wailing of that boy's
'licorice stick' ... Ohhh I love Saturdays ~ always a laugh!!!

PRIDEFUL or not ...?

I once had dealings with a religious fanatic who repeatedly
admonished all and sundry whenever the word pride was mentioned.
That made no sense to me. I wondered why was pride such a bad
thing? I'd always been taught that having pride in yourself
e.g. appearance, achievements etc were all the positives in
life. The opinions of the God botherer were perplexing!

The following trivia has confused the issue more. I'd always
considered myself a person who took pride in many things and
now ... Prideful ... who made that one up??

Do you make sense of it all ... I'm still perplexed ???

Your Pride Quotient: 33%

You're a little prideful, but nothing out of the norm. Like everyone, you enjoy attention. But you're also good at sharing the spotlight!

How Much Pride Do You Have?

I Belong in Summer ... maybe not!

In beautiful Sydney the last two days have been scorchers.
Thermometers hit 38 degrees! The weather man says
temperatures are the highest for any October day in the
past 150 years!

As I realised it is a month since I've posted here I
discovered the following bit of trivia! It's true I've
always adored sun, sand, surf and brown bodies. I
think I'm ready for a change with my wider girth, feet
that puff up and being seen constantly swigging from a
plastic bottle of water as people wondering whether I
am back on the Gordons ...

You Belong in Summer

Energetic, creative, and very curious about the world... You're not going to let anything hold you back, especially a cold day. Whether you're chilling out at the beach or partying all night, you live for the warm weather.

What Season Are You?

Arr ... what's ya Pirate name me hearty?

My pirate name is:

Dread Pirate Flint

Like the famous Dread Pirate Roberts, you have a keen head for how to make a profit. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

As you age ...

Today a wise woman told me the following as we
compared the complexities of middle aged women.

“As you age you become the distilled essence of
what you always were.”

This lovely lady drives past five post offices to do her
posting and purchasing at the best post office in Sydney.
We were horrified as we witnessed one of our kind, perform
with her curt manner, totally lacking in any mirth on a bright
Saturday morning when the staff were going out of their way
to make everyone cheerful. As the staff dealt with this middle
aged horror we glanced at each other in the queue, we knew
we were on the same wave length.
Outside we chatted and wondered what middle age does to
some women to make them such right cows?

For years I’ve put the attitude of these witches down to a lack
of hormone replacement. Have you noticed how their mouths
purse, how they always whinge despite usually being way better
off materially, than you or I might ever be? Have you noticed
amongst their miserableness they lack a sense of humour
especially, when it is a joke about themselves, how many of
them are experts at backstabbing, empire building and ‘running
with the hares and hunting with the hounds’, in other words
playing their cronies against the each other?

The majority of these women adore back stabbing, survive
on playing the victim, always trying to out do the members
of their clique and appear aghast at any insinuation that they
are ever in the wrong or are harbouring any of the atrocious
mannerisms I’ve described. Trust me, I've known them!!

Me … well I say it like it is. Am renowned for being funny,
forthright, friendly and yes, I took my hormone replacement!

No Google at School.

I heard late this week that the Education Department has
banned Google from school computers.

The question is ... why??

Is it to benefit the pupils and if so how? What ... no more easy,
quick research and referencing?

One can only wonder will this stroke of bureacratical genius
hinder the teaching staff as well as the students? What ... are
they going to re-open libraries in schools, send the kids back to
the books and remove computers from the libraries??

Do the decision making genuises think that Google is the only
search engine on the web?

Interesting too that not a word about this decision has been in
the media ... makes you wonder doesn't it?? We're living in the
computer age yet our future generation is being deprived of the
encyclopaedia of their era!!!!

Tess, Martin Place 1941

Doesn't she look the epitome of glamour for that era??

While still thinking about her today I dug out some clippings I
found in a 1950s Good Housekeeping book. I'd say they'd been
clipped from an English magazine and they remind me of Tess
and the way she viewed life which would have been influenced
by such articles.

VITRUES OF A DAY’S REST.
A day in bed is a remedy for so many ills. So many of us are
overworked and underpaid, and have to live from hand to mouth,
that it is small wonder our nerves are rasped and jaded sometimes.
We do not get enough sleep, we do not get time enough to eat out
meals, and we scarcely have time to breathe; certainly we have no
time to breathe fresh air. But just spend the day in bed with the
window wide open, give your tired brain enough sleep and spare for
once; take plenty of time over your meals, and your stomach will
rejoice and be glad. It will think the millennium has come if you lie
still after a meal and break your rule of bolting your food and bolting
to the station to catch the morning train.
Yes, a day in bed for the over worked.


LOOK AFTER THE EYES.
Eskimos will detect a white fox in the snow at a great distance away,
while the Arabs of the desert of Arabia have such extreme powers of
vision that on the vast plains of the desert they will pick out objects
invisible to the ordinary eye at ranges from one to ten miles distant.
Among civilised people says “Health” the Norwegians have better
eyesight than most, if not all other, as they more generally fulfil the
necessary conditions. The reason why defective eyes are so much on
the increase in this country and un Europe lies in too much study of
books in early life and in badly lighted rooms.

THUMBS LARGE & SMALL.
Someone has been telling the character of women by their hands.
It is said that women can be divided into two classes, those with
large thumbs and those with small. The first are supposed to be far
more intellectual, and have a natural taste for study. Small-thumbed
women have more romantic inclinations, and are very sensitive; they
are the coquettes, the women who will consider love above all things
and who fascinate no matter what their age. If a woman’s thumbs are
large her head will rule her heart, she will be a good business woman,
clear headed and tactful.

Happy Birthday Tess.

Happy Birthday Tess.

On this day, August 11 1921, Irene May arrived in the world.
The only child of Roy & Rene she had a more sad, than happy life.
Here's Tess (as her Dad called her after the heroine of the movie
"Tess of the storm Country") aged 14 in 1935 the same year her
Dear Dad was killed on his way home from work.
How sad she looked.

A How to Cure Asthma & Snoring Tip!

I got cheesed off with this blog, photo's wouldn't load, so I
spat the dummy, took my playlunch and left the room!

I'm over it all now ready for another round of blogging!!

The big tip for this episode is one I learnt from a wise friend
who has taken up the didgereedoo!

Did you know that circular breathing, the style you use when
playing the didge helps asthma and snoring??
Well that's the word ~ I can imagine lots of you heavy breathers
taking up the didge one day soon - Enjoy!

Testing photo upload - and YeeeHaaaa!

Been talking to Nephone and Veronica about being unable to upload
pics to the blog and thought I sneak over and give it a go ...

Voila........... here's the Pearl as we speak!! I'll be back ...

What kind of knitting needles are you?

Didn't you always want to know what kind of knitting needles you are?

I delivered a new scarf to MJ and swore I will choose wool
more carefully in future. I was bedazzled by the colour and
missed the fact that the wool was a boucle, synthetic mix that
didn't move on the needle and picked up every other loop along
the way ... despite that, the scarf was well received!

It's a lovely, wet, lazy, Peter Alexander style day today, browsing,
buying,sorting, lazing and purring are the order round here ~ enjoy
the following...

Drat ~ I can't get the HTML to work - you'll get my drift!!

http://images.quizilla.com/L/larissmix/1077233136_turbo.jpg">

You are "turbo" charged.Fast moving and classy, you get things
done with power and grace. Your expensive tastes can be
deceiving, since what you really value is quality and
efficiency. As you're careening around those corners in life,
finishing a dozen knitted objects each month, stop and smell
the roses.
Don't miss the beauty of process!

If you want something done...

MJ once told me "If you want something done ask a busy
woman" well that's me lately. I swear there's not enough
hours in the day to get through what's going on round here!
It's all good, though I'm having trouble sleeping the hours
Ineed to keep this finely tuned body and brain firing -
courtesy of a new feline/greyhound in residence upstairs.

The lovely neighbour, who brought Pearl into my life, was the
owner of a very large, very loved, old cat named "Meaow/Mao",
depending on how you said it. The poor old fella, the cat
that is, became very sick, spent a week in the vet and
unexpectedlyturned up his paws. My neighbour had been to the
vet's each day sitting with his pal and was devastated at
his death.

A few days later the vet called my neighbour asking would he
be interested in giving a home to a cat. My neighbour was
thrilledand not daunted when told that the puss had been found
by thelocal police, in the gutter, after being hit by a car.
The police hadtaken the puss to the vet and had taken up a
collection to pay forit's care. The vet had had to amputate
the puss's front left leg.

My neighbour went to the vet's every day to sit with his soon
to be new son, talking to him and getting to know him. Two
weeks ago he came home. This little fellow is a charmer, a
playful,attentive personality who even after complications, his
wholeleft side shaved and looking like he's been stitched by a
quilter races through the place belting his left stumpy, shoulder
on thefloor as he pelts around upstairs.

BUT ... a few days ago my neighbour decided he would make
Mao a winter bed in the bedroom, on the window sill so Mao
get's the morning sun at the exact same spot directly above my
head.

The building is old, where there's no concrete separating the
floors but creaky, old wooden boards, when if it's all quiet you
can hear, EVERYTHING above, and I mean everything.

The new Mao has taken to early rising and playing - right above
my head, each morning at any time from 6am onwards.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an insomniac, that hears the
grass grow even while sleeping. So after going to bed at 2am I
am not happy jan about the early morning feline olympics /greyhound
training sessions ... But what can I do??
The cat is adorable, the neighbour is one of nature's gentleman.
I've explained my predicament, he's concerned ... but the
cat rules his life!

Pearl's not happy either, she's a night owl like me and looks bleary
eyed as I appear early in the morning cussing under my breath.
As I write she is close by I am sure wishing me to stop pounding the
keyboard and probably wishing me to go to blazes ...

I know how fortunate I am to have the tiny problem as my only
gripe in life - but take a look at Pearl - says it all doesn't it???

What Flower Are You?

I know, I know three in a row!
No, I'm not in search of myself. I know who, what and how I am!

I'm in the throes of creative deadlines. Bargains keep getting in
the way ~ am re-organising my house ~ not sleeping properly
there's too much bad ju ju in my boudoir with all the upheavel
so I meander off in need of some light entertainment and look at
where I land. Those who know and love me will say it's all true ~
the rest of you ~ try it for yourself!

I am a Snapdragon What Flower Are You?

"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend.
You are quite the prankster that loves to make other
people laugh."

what Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

Haaaaaaaaa ... I just had to go and do another of those quirky
tests ... Famous Last Words ... Waaaaaaaa what a classic ;~() !!

Your Famous Last Words Will Be ...

"Nice doggy."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

>

What Colour Blue Are You?

The Marvellous Maureen had this on her blog so I went and
tried it and here's the result ...

You Are Ocean Blue.

You're both warm and practical. You're very driven, but you're also very well rounded.You tend to see both sides to every issue, and people consider you a natural diplomat.

What Color Blue Are You?

A visit to the Sydney Craft Show.

We were in the queue before the doors opened, money
burning a hole in our pockets, lists of dream purchases,
comfortable shoes that felt like they had wings on them,
high on the prospects of a mega shoppathon, doses of
inspiration and motivation and the thought of the
OoHhhhing and Aaahhhing that awaited.

All was accomplished in grand company.

Now feet are throbbing, back is aching, savings are depleted
but the creative juices are teetering near boiling point with
beautiful ideas that are so simple it makes you wonder how,
after sewing for so many years, you didn’t think of it first!

The catering needs a mention. $7 for a bread roll with a slice
of roast beef and fetta cheese. $3.50 for 300 mls of fruit juice
(even the girl on the register apologised, embarrassingly, about
the prices). $6 for fruit salad which would have measured out
to about three dessertspoonfuls, totally outrageous prices yet the
hoardes queued for miles seeking sustanence to be further visually
dazzled and to max out the fantastic plastic!

It’s not so much that we cared about the cost, more so that we
were horrified when we first bought a bottle of water and were
charged $3 – "Wottha!" ~ highway robbery ~ especially when you
consider ~ us crafty women love our tucker!

Ozzee, Ozzee Ozee Ozzeeeeee, Oi, Oi, Oi!!!!

Pearl with her yellow and green eyes is proud to be an Ozzie tonight
as we watched our Australian Socceroos beat Japan in the first round
of the World Cup - C'Mon Aussies, C'Mon!

Yo Bro!

Little Willy's 60 today
But in 2001 cancer took him away
Damn ~ I miss him more each day...
Yo Bro.










This pic was taken in 1990 late one night after devouring
thousands of cool refreshing glasses of happiness! This was
our era of finally getting to know each other.

We became a formidable team when he was in town.

For sure my Bro will have his elbow on a bar somewhere right
now, placing 50 cent bets on anything that is racing, kicking or
crawling up a wall while chatting up sheilas, shouting drinks for
the bar, telling bad jokes and behaving like a total yobbo.
All at the same time!

Onya Bro!

Why Buy a Mohair Rug?

While op shopping today I spied a gorgeous rug in pink-ish,
mauve-ish, and pale-ish blue hues the label read 100% Mohair
Made in Australia, price - $8. For some reason I had to have it!
Pet looked at me, I shrugged “I dunno, I have to have it.” I was
thinking maybe I’ll felt this, do something crafty, give it to my
pal Veronica, I dunno – I had no idea.

When I arrived home I took it out of the bag, left it on the floor
while I unpacked the shopping then went to change. When I came
back out I knew instantly why I’d bought the mohair rug …

WHILE SEARCHING FOR MY CREATIVITY ...

This year my creative life has lost its splendour. Looking after
my Dad, boredom with the creativity I adored and feeling stale
has contributed to much gathering with little outgoing. Plenty
going on my head, gorgeous items all produced in my imagination
but nothing to show. I’m hoping to pick up the pieces soon. I’ve
started to knit, made postcards for a swap with a US group and
purchased some beautifulness to endeavour creating something
different ~ so watch this space. During this time I’ve been devouring
books and magazine to try to reignite the spark and heave me out
of the gloom.

A true reading joy came via The Sydney Morning Herald
'Good Weekend Magazine' in the stunning edition produced for
the 175th anniversary where I discovered the following two gems ~

Read #1 ~

‘Life under Rations” by Ruth Park.

Identity cards for civilians were part of life during World
War II. Without one, you could not get your food and
clothing ration coupons or a hospital bed or a job, and
certainly not entry to any official place or building.
Ruth Park found hers among some old papers years later
and the memories came flooding back.

The shortage that affected me most was needles. (Anything made of
metal was certain to disappear sooner or later.) I can still remember
sitting up in bed in my parachute nightdress, between mattress-ticking
sheets, crying because I’d lost my needle. You can’t imagine what it’s
like to be without a needle, with no hope of another till the war ends,
which was probably never,
Where did it go, for I never found it. Down a crack, I suppose, like
those long-ago years when we laughed, and had our hearts broken,
and made eggless, butterless, sugarless cakes, and waited for the boys
to come home and life to start once more.

Makes me realise how fortunate I am have own such a
bumper, creative stash.

Read #2 ~ Adoring all things Art Deco this is gorgeous ~

THE FLAPPER BY ONE WHO KNOWS HER.
August 21, 1926.

Certainly taken en masse she would seem to be a painted, pleasure
loving, cocktail drinking, cigarette smoking, thoughtless little lassie,
whose thoughtlessness to her elders and the aged in many cases
amounts almost to heartlessness. She would appear to have one
thought, and that thought, self and how much juice of pleasure she
can squeeze from the orange called life, and throw away the rind.
Traditions are trampled under her feet; youth is paramount.

Yes, all this is true, or so it would seems collectively. But,
individually, what so we find in the Australian lassie, anyway? A
clean-limbed, wholesome, sports loving girl, who can play a
game of tennis, golf, or hockey with anyone, who can row a boat,
or run a car all day if need be, and dance half the night, but who
can, also equally well, run a business, nurse the sick, make cleverly
and daintily her won and oft times her mother’s or sister’s frocks
and undies; who reads much , and oft times quiet deeply, who can
organise and committees, and provide for meetings for the benefit
of these same charities. She can, and does, all the time, look smart,
trim and fresh, as she goes about her business or pleasure.

I admit that oft times she is loathe to relinquish her gay freedom
and take-on the responsibilities of matrimony, but when she does
she can keep her home as well as any of the lassies of a former
generation, can be as faithful and loving a wife, as tender a mother,
as thoughtful as a daughter-in-law, as thrifty a housekeeper; and can
entertain her own and her husband’s friends, even better than the
young wives of former generation, for her style is more open, more
free – there is, to my mind, more of a comrade between the sexes,
nd less of sex thoughts than there used to be in our grandmothers’
time,

Yes, the flapper of today, with all her faults – and I admit she has
them – is yet to me a nearere perfect girl than any that has gone
before her. Miss Australia, all hail; I raise me hat to you, and I’m
one of your own sex, and old enough to be your mother.

Don’t you just breathe a sigh of relief at not being a ‘flapper’?

MY MOTHER'S DAY 2006.

Mother’s day for me was spent with the best daughter any
mother could ever ask for! We went to the City of Shadows
Exhibition at the Police & Justice Museum at Circular Quay.
It was fantastic and to anyone looking for something to do
on any weekend in Sydney do yourselves a favour and don’t
miss this amazing tour of Sydney in days past. The faces,
the fashion, the language, the crimes, the harpies and sharpies,
crooks and ginger joints is amazing. The set up of the exhibition
is marvellous. The information and the opportunity is look
through an historic Sydney police station, cells and courthouse
shouldn’t be missed.

We strolled along Circular Quay. The sun was out, the buskers
were entertaining and the water glistened. We were heading to
the Museum of Contemporary Art for lunch but found they
were only serving a two course set menu – too much for a Sunday
lunch for us! So we wandered through the MCA onto George
Street at the Rocks and into The Rocks Café. A table out of the
breeze, in the sun and the best calamari I’ve ever had (that’s
a big wrap) made my Mother’s Day a scrumptious delight.

After lunch we walked up George Street peering in shop windows,
watching the passing parade to Dymocks where I found the book
I’d been looking for for ages. Through Myer’s to Borders and
the latest copy of Belle Amoir as well as another book I’d been
lusting after.

Hope your Mother’s Day was as blissful as mine ~ I’m one
lucky Mother!

Happy Mother's Day to all you Mothers!

Born 1921 this is the happiest image we ever saw of Tess
Devoured by sadness
Her beloved obsession of two men became her illness.

She never let us know her
Set free in 2003 - peace and happiness at last - we hope
Happy Mother's Day Darling!

PEARL the GIRL.

This was taken the other night.

It was 2 am - what do you reckon she's saying???

She's got her eye on me that's for sure.

She's finally relaxing. Two days ago she found there's a bedroom

in the house. She's not ventured past the litter in the bathroom,

She sleeps lot's. Talks as I come into the room. She purrs at

every chance - she's getting a sleeker, furrier coat, she's begun

to play under the flokati rug so tonight I've made toys for her

and we've had her first play.

I think she realises she's here to stay!

The new Kit on the Block.

Allow me to introduce you to my new companion.

Resuced by a neighbour last week and known as Tibbles previously
the much loved companion of a lady who'd died was all we knew.
Tibbles had wandered the neighbourhood and was found being
mistreated by residents at a boarding house. She's malnourished with
wobbly legs, a skinny tail, bones that need some flesh on them but she
purrs like a luxury, expensive, highly tuned BMW.

My neighbour rescued her, carrying her home in a shopping bag over
the shoulder. The neighbour had a much loved, fat cat, that didn’t take
too kindly to an "intruder". Barriers were established. The fat cat in the
living room, Tiddles in the bedroom, always on guard, always awake,
extremely nervy with a scared and wary look in her eyes.

We’d auditioned her a week ago under the impression that Tibbles was
Mr. Tibbles. If I was having a house mate it was not going to be a
male of any description. The neighbour thought another home had
been found for Mr. Tibbles. I was disgusted and suggested that if he
wouldn’t live with this neighbour then why would he send Mr. Tibbles
there. It didn’t last and within 24 hours Mr. Tibbles had been chased
with a broom, not been fed and required rescuing again. Even more
distressed as well as in dire need of a manicure, we discovered that
Mr. Tibbles appeared to be Ms. Tibbles, her fate was sealed, she
moved in with me.

Along with a new home she was given a new identity.

Her name is now Pearl. She’s been sleeping since moving in on a fluffy
purple towel on the back of my couch. We showed her around including
where the litter was - only once - and at some stage during her
first night she ate some fresh chicken morsels then found her way to,
and used the litter. What a genius cat!

She's slept almost non stop and says a little 'Meaow'. A feeding pattern has
been established with Optimum dry food in the morning and as I prepare
my dinner at night she is served two dessertspoons of canned food.
Tonight I tapped the tin with a spoon and she came running. She devoured
only the gravy but at midnight she polished off the lot and then went to the
bathroom and back to her spot on the back of the couch.
We'll take her to the vet later in the week for a check up and shots!

I am happy to announce I am now the Mother of Pearl!

The Crack Up - I'm Over It!

Crikey where has the week gone I wonder? – having a darn
crack up that’s where!!!. Wearing that nurses uniform was so
out of character for me but a good result is taking place and
the button pusher is in rehabilitation, making a comeback.

I’ve found out who my loved ones are and they know how much
they’ve held me up through it all. Lessons have been learnt as
they usually are when a crisis hits me. My philosophy is there’s
no such thing as a bad experience, it’s all part of the lessons of
life. Out of something bad always comes something good – a
twist on an old adage that has stood me in good stead. My wisdom
has expanded, my inner self has become calmer. Thank goodness
I hear loved ones say!

I'm searching for a companion ~ a furry, mature aged, desexed,
kind. Purely for therapeutic reasons - yeah right ;~)
Then I'll be even more eccentric ... And loving it!

Howard of the Overflow!

For those of you who don't know the Australian Prime
Minister is being a prime chump over a deal done with
Iraq and the Australian Wheat Board! The following
was sent to me by a dear mate, Flick, written to the
classis Australan poem "The man from Snowy River"
get an Aussie to read it to you - you won't believe how
clever this is ~ enjoy and read with gusto!
Whoever wrote it deserves a coldie - or ten!

Howard of the Overflow.

(must be read out aloud with gusto)

I had written him a letter, which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him at the wheat board,
years ago. He was chairman when I knew him, so I sent
the letter to him Just on spec, to make the point that
"Howard doesn't want to know". And an e-mail came
directed, not entirely unexpected (And I think the same
was written in some Middle Eastern bar). 'Twas his CEO
who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it: "Trevor Flugge's
gone to Baghdad, and we don't know where he are".
"But when he left Australia, he was going to meet with Alia,
A trucking mob in Jordan, who were keen to grease the
wheels. For 10 percent commission, they could swing
Saddam's permission To get our wheat accepted; it's the
mother of all deals". "But I guarantee, Prime Minister,
that there's nothing at all sinister. The chaps at DFAT
told us that the sums looked quite okay. When you're
selling wheat in billions, what's a quick 300 million? If it
keeps the Nationals happy, it's a tiny price to pay."
Sitting here at Kirribilli, I've been thinking, willy-nilly,
That it's somehow reminiscent of the children overboard:
But I can handle Rudd and Beazley, as I always do, quite
easily By endlessly protesting that there's nothing untoward.
I'll tell Bush next time I meet him at The White House,
when I greet him, That I'm sure he'll understand about the
wheat board's quid pro quo. He'll forgive this minor error in
the global war on terror When I look him in the eye and
tell him Howard didn't know.
_____

Easter Egg Wrappers - The Collectors

Friday night at 8pm the ABC shows a quirky 30 minute
program 'The Collectors' that makes me feel not so odd.

This weeks Collector Cam was a gal who saves Easter Egg
wrappers! Now's your chance! Don't let the kids throw the
wrappers away. You can sit for hours slowly rubbing the
creases from the foil as the aroma of chocolate tantalises
your senses. Slip them into an acid free folder, colour
co-ordinated and each time you open them the sweet
smell will be there to remind you ... for next Easter and ...

What a yummy way to spend Easter - for now and forever!

Postsecret

My PIC sent me the link to Postsecret so do yourself
a favour and go take a peek!

Like my PIC it's gorgeous!!!

Thank gawd it's Friday - Happy Easter!

Happy Easter all!

I'm having a day off from the button pusher.
Sun is shining, I'm catching up on my domestics
and feeling as happy as a lark.... how does a lark
feel I wonder ~ Ooops look out I'm rambling. Too
much time has been spent in the twight zone...LOL!

Are you missing me?

Popping in to say I'm still in a nurses uniform.
Maybe I'll take to wandering. The Button Pusher
is coming out of the twilight zone, letters have
been written about the unit manager. You read the
stories about the hospital system and when you
least expect it you're amongst it.

Management has a lot to answer for. The staff
are doing their best. Management don't talk to
each other, the staff, the family and least of all
the patients.
Today I met a woman who's relative had been
taken to the wrong nursing home from the same
ward where the Button Pusher currently resides.
The woman's relative had been badly treated and
when discharged was to be transferred to a new
facility. She'd come to the hospital to get her
relative, with dementia, transported. The staff
told her she had to move him. She went to war,
telling them they took him there and it was up to
them to get her relative to the correct place.
She was then off to see another relative in the
cardiac ward ... my lot seemed not quite so bad!

I'll get back to you shortly!