Gutsy9 isn’t quite sure about my mother’s weird canary, Andre, who I am babysitting while she is in hospital. Five months ago they were the same size!
Sad sunset
I have been trying so hard lately to be positive, but tonight, a nurse rang me asking me to try and convince Ants to take his pills. Eventually my voice on his phone worked and the nurse was able to give him his pills.
Ants was distressed and confused and aggro: this scared me.
What a wonderful nurse to ring me like that. I am so relieved to know that Ants is okay in this nursing lodge, but I am constantly anxious for him now that the dementia is happening.
Ants is coming home for the afternoon tomorrow so I’ve invited a few friends. Oh I so hope it all works out!
[Note to blogfriends: I can’t keep up with reading blogs at the moment, but will catch up soon.]
Gold digger guffaws
When a young woman marries a man who is 23 years older than she is, the term ‘gold digger’ tends to fly through country towns such as this one, and sometimes insinuates itself into the gossip of all and sundry.
Ming was conceived on our honeymoon (March 1993) and born a very decent 9 months later (January 1994) but, by this time, I had already been labelled as a gold digger. I wasn’t happy about this but there was nothing I could do about it. Anthony laughed the gossip off, and so did I, eventually.
So imagine my shock when my friend – JL – informed me yesterday that she had recently heard a story from her brother-in-law (who is friends with the bus driver at Anthony’s nursing lodge) about me!
Me: What?
JL: Well the bus driver told N that they sometimes take the men’s group for a visit to a farm that has peacocks.
Me: Yes – it’s a wonderful arrangement because they bring tea and scones and feed the birds and it’s a great way of getting Ants home for a couple of hours.
JL: But the bus driver said that every time they come to the peacock farm, the young lady who owns the farm starts kissing and cuddling one of the residents – a bloke called Anthony – and she is all over him, obviously after his money.
Me: What?
JL: It’s okay, N. told him you were Anthony’s wife.
Me: Oh thank goodness – what must they have all been thinking!
I’m guffawing too much to go out for my daily gold-digging expedition!
Just for the record
Yesterday I wrote about accidentally slamming the taxi door on the taxi driver’s foot. Today I find myself rather anxious about this foot and every time the phone rings I am scared it might be the taxi company suing me for assault, or the police arresting me for battery.
So, just in case either of those two things happen, I thought I would record here exactly what occurred during the foot-slamming incident. After all, detailed documentation might be required if the taxi driver’s toes are injured.
I said goodbye to Anthony and the taxi driver over the roar of the wheelchair taxi’s engine, then, as I was standing next to the taxi driver’s door, and he was seated in his driver’s seat (I thought), I politely closed his door.
Now this is when things are a bit of a blur. You see, the door just wouldn’t close. I kept trying (I think it was about three times), before I realized that the taxi driver was trying to tell me something over the noise of the engine. So I gave the stupid door a final shove and that is when I unintentionally slammed the taxi driver’s foot and his words finally soared above the engine noise.
He said, OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, turned the engine off and pointed to his foot which was wedged crookedly half inside and half outside the taxi.
I then poured a fountain of apologies on him and he forgave me and reassured me that taxi drivers always wear protective boots.
So that’s for the record.
What isn’t on the record is that I seem unable to stop laughing!
Nose-blowing noise attracts nosy peacocks
Lately the peacocks have begun congregating outside my office and staring curiously at me through the flyscreen door. They’ve never done this before. They used to come to the back veranda door in the hope of bread but I stopped doing that ages ago when their poop began to replace the pavement.
Today I realized that their staring-at-me-through-the flyscreen-door-behaviour was due to my hayfever and the noise I make when I blow my nose. It almost exactly resembles their loud hoot-honking noise. They must think I’m calling them! Of course Gutsy9 is the first one to come running.
20th wedding anniversary!
Yesterday was our 20th wedding anniversary and Anthony forgot.
So did I.
[Actually, we always forget for some reason but I thought ‘So did I’ was a rather good punchline – ha!]
My mother usually reminds us but she’s in hospital and will be for some time. It was only when I was collecting stuff from her house to take into the hospital that I saw her note – ‘March 27-Ants & Julie anniversary’.
Ants is coming home for the day tomorrow – Good Friday – and I’m not sure whether to tell him about our anniversary or not because it might make him a bit sad and nostalgic.
20 years! Aren’t I supposed to get some sort of present?
[Note to other bloggers – I am having difficulty keeping up with your posts and comments – will catch up asap.]
Roast duck and miscommunication
Zaruma is one of our two pet Muscovy ducks. We raised him from a chick. Then we got Tapper and raised her from a chick too and now they are a happily married couple. At sundown I always put them into one of the fox-proof pens and they now look after Gutsy9, the baby peacock, during the nights. (One photo shows Zaruma clearly; the other photo shows all three unclearly).
Anyway, onto the miscommunication part of this post: Anthony absolutely loves roast duck so the other day I bought two frozen ducks. Well, yesterday I defrosted them to cook tonight so I could be a bit ahead of myself for Easter lunch. So, at 6.30pm I told Ming I would join him to watch our favourite TV show as soon as I put the ducks in. At 6.35pm this was our conversation:
Me: Okay, the ducks are in.
Ming (watching TV): How the hell did you do that so fast?
Me: Well I got them ready to go, put a bit of salt on and no need for oil because ducks have a lot of fat.
Ming: Salt! They don’t need salt do they?
Me: Well it just makes the meal a bit tastier.
Ming: You put salt on their wheat?
Me: What?
Ming: They’re ducks, Mum – they don’t need condiments!
Me: Well I was going to use some pepper too.
Ming: What?
And that’s when we realized that he thought I was talking about Zaruma and Tapper. LOL!
LOL?
Laugh out loud
Leaves on lawn
Listen or leave
Loser of lottery
Lonely or lustrous
Lovely old leprechaun
Lack of love
Limping on limestone
Lard of lamb
Like or leave
Leaking old lesson
Leaning on legs
Laundering of loss
Long or lengthened
Lazy ornery llama
Lost or loved
Libido of lipid
Lecherous old lion
Lost or least
Lots of love
Laugh out loud!
I tend not to use LOL very much because, after all, it might be misinterpreted.
Yes, it’s been one of those days. LOL!
Socks
I found some old socks –
the football socks you once wore
to get the cows in.
Your favourite socks!
But you never played football –
you just liked to run….
I put your socks on
and now I will go to bed
With you warming me.
If you don’t know what to say, just shut up!
I’ve been trying to find a word that means the same thing as ‘stating the obvious’ but, apart from ‘duh’, there doesn’t seem to be one in the English language. ‘Redundant’ doesn’t quite cut it, ínanity’ only just comes close, so ‘duh’ it is.
A close relative of Anthony’s, who only visits him sporadically, and has baulked at my suggestion of getting him wheel-chair taxied to their place, sent me an email the other day. In the email it was stated that they had visited Anthony but didn’t have time at the moment to arrange for a taxi visit. The irony and inanity of the email’s concluding sentence astounded me:
We notice that he is very lonely.
Duh!
jmgoyder 