Pocket Rocket

Only a month or so ago I had a little dream of selling our house next Spring.  With Merv injuring himself and his HD creating further decline my little dream is now a nightmare with a sale six month earlier.  I have a plan.  I always have a plan.
Part of my tailored plan was to hire a painter to paint my neglected fascias (the metal under the gutters).  I can see Mr Painter perched cheerfully on his ladder wearing his old white stained overalls, cap on his head and rag hanging out of his back pocket.  He whistles as he slaps the classic cream paint on my nicely prepped fascias.   Hmm, a nice day dream.
Yesterday in the heat of the day I went outside and spent a minute or two checking out my slightly rusted, pink mottled fascias.  Yep, a trip to Bunnings, a half hour how to do instruction from a fresh faced sales assistant and my scruffy cheerful painter is replaced by, wait for it, yes, me.  I don't wear overalls but a baggy shirt and a pair of old trousers with my iPhone shoved in my pocket.  (always take my phone, if I trip I can ring someone, maybe).  I pretend I'm singing with butterflies flitting close by.  The truth is I'll be sloshing the old paint on while cursing the sun cooks me or the rain splutters upon me! 
Being a realist, at times, I figure I could do so many metres each day.  I know the preparation is the big job and the painting is just the icing on the top.  I will save at least 75% of the cost if not more.  I can do it.  I'm good with a ladder up to the roof line but I daren't go further.  My house, a relic of the 70's has two gablets.  Yes I looked that up on Google.  It's a baby sized gable.  The front gablet which is seen from the road was repainted once, probably fifteen years ago.  The other gablet hidden by a side fence has lived it's life without any maintenance.  It's a mess. 
My imagination does a double take.  I see myself on the top rung of my longest ladder with paint pot balancing gingerly.  Down comes the ladder with me next.  I hit the concrete laying very still. 
OK too much imagining.  I ring the professionals and happily they return my call and pay me a visit.  I shall live to see another day.
Newly painted fasicas - a DYI project, a goal and a dream to bring alive.

Side Gablet, needs an overhaul!

Front Gablet needs a paint job also

Loop de Loop

I have this damn list.  On Monday it was just fine.  I listed the housework.  I completed the list.  I do housework week in and week out, it's no big deal.  All done.  There wasn't much on the list to complete (in or around the house) on Tuesday through to Thursday but Friday through to Sunday is a whole different story.  It's only been two weeks since my amazing garden makeover with the help of my extended family.  Thank goodness for them.  Eight people all working together to transform my disastrous gardens to a magazine makeover. Thank you to my lovely family.
Back to the list; it included painting the gate (not done), spraying the weeds (yes, done this morning), preparing the shed and laundry doors for painting (began but no where near completion) and there were a few obscure things listed which I have chosen to forget.  Oh, one of them was to move the mulch from the front to the back but I'm waiting for the weeds to die first. 
I had hoped for an hour or more for a snooze this afternoon while watching a movie.  Its 37degrees Celsius today (98.6 F) in Perth.  After our cold start to Spring we have this super hot day followed by a week of cooler weather. 
I was up at 5am this morning.  After Merv's fall which injured his leg and curtailed his confidence I have found getting him up to go to the toilet at 5am is working well. No more wet beds.  I usually go back to bed in hope of further sleep but today I had this most crazy plan. 
A cup of tea followed by weed spraying while the day had just began.  There was no wind and spraying seemed a great idea.  Then I grabbed the super high ladder from the shed and armed with screwdriver, hammer and a box cutter I prised off the shade cloth remnants from the front pergola.  The shade cloth perished years ago leaving the hammered in staples, rusty nails and bits of annoying shade cloth scraps.  Hoping it's a good idea to replace the shade cloth this year to keep the house cooler I remove all the bits and scraps.  Will it keep down the quote to replace it? Probably not, but it looks so much better now.
As I'm only half awake I remind myself to remove the hammer from the top of the ladder and slide the blade back inside the box cutter before I move the ladder to the next spot.  I remember most of the time but I witnessed my flying hammer several times which fortunately missed both my head and my feet.  I even kept my balance on the ladder and didn't fall off while prising those rusty nails out of the pergola frame, ten feet above the ground.  As the sun grew hotter I had completed most of the prising and pulling with only a few metres left.  I convinced myself to give myself a much needed break. 
I watered my amazing garden and went to the shop for the paper and milk before getting Merv up for the day.  He's watching the cricket and I'm getting ready for Mel's birthday celebration tomorrow.
I check my house improvement list.  There's a whole heap of things which are partially finished and some which are put on hold.  I will roll them over for the next week.  They will still be there waiting!
Though I tried to have a snooze this afternoon I didn't even feel tired.  A knock on the door in the heat of the afternoon and there stood a young man wearing a Red Cross T-shirt.  Before offering a donation I offer him a large glass of cold water which he readily accepted.  He had no sunhat on and he said he had a rather large head.  I looked at his head and took the opportunity to offer him the sun cap I was wearing this morning.  It expands at the back.  He happily took it.  "Please keep it," I said.  I offered him $5 donation but he was after a commitment of $1 per day.  I shook my head, pity I couldn't just give him $5.
Oh. back to my library book.  It wasn't as compelling as the first novel.  I would go as far to say it edges on the side of a Barbara Cartland.  Oh dear but a little light reading is just what the doctor ordered!

Everyone helping to create a masterpiece

The front garden weeded, new plants added and mulched

The back garden received the same fabulous makeover

Petunia's added Spring colour

Word Runner

I enjoyed Mary Simses' novel, 'The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe,' I read it twice.  I enjoyed it even more the second time around.  When parting with it at the local library I asked the librarian if Mary had written any other novels.  The librarian studied her computer, pondering over the titles on the screen.  Finally she announced Mary had just released another novel.  Without even asking she zapped my library card and I was on the wait list.  I was excited but to fill in time I selected a couple of novels from the trolley labelled, 'Returned recently by other readers.'  It is a bit of a lucky dip.  Sometimes you pick something fabulous but mostly you don't.
I took home, 'Lands Beyond the Sea', by Tamara McKinley.  It was based in the 18th century and basically its about the first fleet from England to Australia.  It's easy reading.  Interesting to know a little more about how it was for the first settlers and convicts.  Every Aussie kid learns at school, how everyone had scurvy due to lack of oranges and fruit.  We know how shamefully our convicts were transported shackled in the hull of the ship with rats, little food, rotting clothes.  Many died  before reaching Australia.  The novel goes into depth of the conflict between the indigenous (Aborigines) and the settlers. 
I check my emails and there it is.  My book, 'The Rules of Love and Grammar' by Mary Simses is sitting at my local library waiting for me but I am 250kms away from home.  Ok, make a mental note to pick up book when I return. I put the book out of my mind there is fun to be had on my respite fortnight and fun is what I will have.  I do.
After picking up Merv I stop off at the library leaving him in the car with the window down.  I know where to find my book awaiting important library card holder.  It is tucked into a special shelf with my name printed haphazardly on a bookmark.  I am pleased but then I look at the cover and sigh.  A long deep exasperating sigh.  There is a dirty big note on the cover.  It states, 'TWO WEEKS Loan only'.  I groan - 2 weeks?  I could do with four!  A book with a challenge.  I am good with a challenge.  I remember for a split second I walked across England last year.  That was a challenge.  Yes I'm good with a challenge.
I am gone less than three minutes.  Merv is still sitting in the car.  I breathe a sign of relief.  No one has man-napped him!
There are a whole lot of decisions to be made including do I finish Tamara's novel or do I hide it and delve into Mary's?  It's the whole challenge thing.  I will do the challenge.
Merv falls twice during the week resulting in a black eye, sore hip and left leg.  I have to walk him to the toilet and back and forth to the lounge.  No time to read at present.
I spend my time in bed before sleep reading as much as possible as my eyes grown heavy and I succumb to sleep. 
I finally finish the novel, all 397 pages.  There is an prologue of Tamara's next book, 'A Kingdom for the Brave.'  I wince but plod on.  Sleep has yet to call me this night.  I eventually throw the book down on the floor.  It is awful.  A whole tribe of Aborigines massacred by an evil band of army personnel and settlers bent on revenge and greed.  I felt sick. Definitely not reading that book!
I have spent a whole week finishing the Australian book.  I have only one week to read my new book. It has 367 pages, I read seven pages on day one, I have six days to go and I now have 324 pages to go.  I can't pretend I don't know when it's due back.  That 2 week loan only note on the front cover 
reminds me there is no way out,  just keep reading and reading and reading Pamela.  It's a challenge, you can do it!  Watch this space!

                                                         
  

No Caller ID stalker

My Mel, she has a good heart.  She signs her name on her text messages; 'Angel Melanie, love Melanie'.  It's the same for everyone.  Everyone takes it at face value.  Except for one.
Mel has a good friend who has Autism.  He works for a pittance during the day and once a week Mel and him meet to watch a movie or cook each other dinner.  It is a lovely friendship and that is all it is. He laughs readily and sees good in everyone.  Mel delights in his friendship. Her friend is not looking for a relationship and I doubt whether he is capable of having what most of us would term a 'normal' love interest. 
This friend with all good intentions gave Mel's number to his brother.  His brother like Mel has mental health issues. 
Mel told me about this and I listened.  It wasn't long before I realised this person was ringing her a number of times a day.  I began to feel concerned, but it wasn't until Mel came to stay for a week that I realised the extent of his presence. 
Mel had turned off her phone's volume which I found unlike her, she loves to receive calls.  Most of us do.  I was concerned she would not only miss my calls but calls from her beloved friends and family.  Most of all I was concerned about her obvious stress.
I soon saw a list of her recent calls and then I understood.  This person was ringing her every 15 minutes and continued to do so because she was not answering her phone.  Oh a stalker...
I  did the Mummy thing and discussed this with her before blocking his number.  It worked well to stop his disturbing text messages but he was ringing her phone using; No Caller ID. 
I bombarded Google to find a solution, but nothing which was suggested worked on her iPhone 5c. 
Then my head went into overdrive!  I thought I could answer her phone; shouting at him,
THIS IS THE POLICE, WE ARE WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE.  DO NOT RING MELANIE, DO NOT LEAVE HOME - YOU WILL BE PUT INTO A POLICE VAN NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN.
I wish I could have laughed, but I just scared myself.  Visions of me being carted off in a police paddy van filled my cranial spaces instead.  I shuddered at the thought of how this person's obsession with Mel was affecting the both of us.
Then I turned my thoughts to Telstra, the phone service provider.  I rang the next day on a Saturday afternoon when I thought no one would be manning the call centre.  A lady with a strong Asian accent answered the phone.  She listened to my concerns.  She wanted to wait 30 days and Mel to answer the phone for 3-5 seconds each time the stalker person rang.  NO WAY  I retorted.
"Do you want to change her number?" she asked.  I thought about the long list of people and professionals we would need to contact with her new phone number.  I thought about her automatic prepaid recharge which would have to be reset.  I asked Mel and she agreed.
That is what we did.  Mel has a new number and now her phone once again blares out Ed Sheeran's,  Thinking Out Loud ringtone when someone rings.
It is sad Mel has had a disturbing experience when it was with only good intentions of her autistic friend.  What is even sadder is the loss of this friend.  She knows if she gives her new number to him, his brother will probably bully him until he shares her number. 
That is what his brother is.  A bully.

Pink Glitter Slippers

The sun is shining through my bedroom window.  It's chilly outside, about 4 degrees Celsius but the light reflects on the sequins of my new pink glitter slippers.  I slide them on my size 6 feet and just for a second or two I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, before I stomp to the kitchen to fix breakfast!
My little sister Maureen surprised me with my glitter slippers just over a week ago.  She said she laughed when she saw them displayed in the shop and went back and bought them for me.  She wrapped them lovingly in a décor box.  That was my Dorothy moment.  A tear formed in the corner of my eye blurring my vision.  A moment to forever remember.
I'm not really a glitter person but I love these slippers.  In my often drab life they bring a smile to my face.  I am mesmerised when the light plays and dances upon them making them sparkle.  They take on a life of their own.  I've even posted them on Facebook for my family and friends to marvel at (or scratch their heads and wonder about my sanity!)
Little sister stayed overnight recently when she wasn't well.  My glitter slippers were of no help to her.  I did what I know best; I tempted her with food. In our family when all else fails - feed the problem!
So I did.  I fed little sister, paracetamol, anti-histamine and anything (not meds) she felt like eating or drinking.  I made her mango chicken curry which she couldn't eat and cupcakes with icing and strawberries.  I offered her lemonade and icy poles.
What I really wanted was a magic wand which I could wave around like a mad woman and it would cure her ills and make her whole again.  Yes, a fairy tale, an instant miracle but life is not like that.
Fortunately Maureen is recovering with the help of her doctor.  It is a miracle itself what medical science has already achieved. 
Thank you little sister for my lovely glitter slippers, I'm so pleased you're recovering.

A Pearl of Wisdom

Mel and I visited her GP today to for a repeat prescription. Her regular GP was on holiday. We saw an Indian doctor instead. She appeared composed and spoke confidently without haste.

We briefly discussed Mel's grief. She asked how Mel was handling her grief and stated as all good people do that time is a great healer. We all know this. I turned off  my attention until she unexpectedly shared a pearl of wisdom. 

My ears pricked up, I was alert once more.

The doctor merely stated; when you receive bad news let it rest for a few days before acting on it.  How often do we react right away to negative situations? I know how easy it is to do. Emotions often rule our lives and dictate how others see us.

Oh the sweetness of control, wisdom and patience. Not that I could guarantee I have any of these attributes but maybe when the time arrives I might just remember the pearl of wisdom from this amazing doctor.

Sneaky Snickers

It was raining on Thursday.  It was chilly cold and so very horrid.  It was not a day for a walk in the park.  Mel and I went to the gym instead.  She did her hourly gym program complete with weird machines and weights while I pushed myself to complete 30 minutes on the treadmill watching last night's TV without the sound.  I finished before Mel and headed for the café to read the local newspaper.
I've added a bit of weight in the last few months and Spring is just around the corner.  I decided to weigh myself the following morning.  It wasn't my goal weight which I wanted but better than last month.
I later went shopping at Aldi before lunch.  Never a good time to shop but there I was thirty minutes from home in need of a couple of Aldi specials.
There was no parking near by so I grabbed some shopping bags and walked five minutes to the store.  Soon my list was crossed off and a number of other goodies unexpectedly jumped into my bag.  I can never figure that bit out.
By the time I queued up at the check out the chocolate bars were shouting at me.  I had a choice between some unknown chocolate roll stuffed with toffee (never good for my teeth) or a double sized Snickers bar.  I snatched the Snickers and wedged it among my goodies on the conveyer belt.
I threw my shopping in the boot of my car, everything that was except the Snickers bar.  It sat right next to me until I ripped off the top with my teeth and ate one of the two bars. Devoured in seconds before my key even made it to the ignition.
Ohhhh yummy I purred. 
Oh no, I later groaned (thinking of those calories and the scales)
I didn't want to go the gym later.  It was cold outside but I grudgingly pulled on my brand new gym leggings, hung my larnyard with gym card attached around my pulsating neck.   Another 30 minutes on the treadmill and I'm done and on the way home.  At least I'm no longer cold.
The next morning I pull out the scales.  I know its going to be bad, really bad.  I step gingerly on the scales.  I have lost 200 grams. 
WOW!  I exclaim.  I can lose weight eating Snickers.  It's going to be a good day.
By lunchtime I'm hungry (yes I had breakfast) and I eye off the other half of the Snickers bar.  I'm not going to the gym today as Merv is home.  I pour myself a wine and devour the other half of my hidden Snickers bar.  Oh I feel so naughty and nice!
The next day I feel terrible.  What have I done.  How did one (oversized) Snickers bar make me paranoid?  I deserve nothing good.  I close my eyes, step on my scales but I can't get excited.
Have I really lost another 200 grams? 
'Liar'  I say, 'No one loses weight eating a Snickers Bar.'  
I hide the scales.  I'm not going to weigh myself tomorrow because I'm all out of Snickers Bars.  I expect I've added a kilo or two or three....