wheely, truly, madly

The young lady to your left is Miss Flynn Bailey Fitzgerald. Bit of a smiler isn't she!

And why not - she's just taken delivery of her brand new Wheely Bug somewhat aptly named "Beatriks Bee". Not often that a brand new "motor" is delivered to your door, especially when that door is about 8,000kms from source.

Wheely Bugs are an Australian made award winning toy that encourages development of gross motor skills - i got this off the blurby stuff. And it is true! They do.

To be honest, i'm madly jealous. I wanted to jump aboard and wheel around with gayful abandon - however at nigh on xxxx kilos and with knees that take 4 hours to limber up for any bend more acute than 45 degrees - the next best option was to relive youthful exuberance vicariously via Flynn, my dearest girlfriend Colleen's first and thus far, only, borne. Colleen - are you hearing me - this is a very large hint - that you collect yourself and your husband and go make more babies. One for you, one for him, one for me and one spare!

But to doting Token Aunts, Gran mama's etc, these zoomers are just the business for little totties. They are So very groovy and Funky. Wheely Bugs come in various guises; cute as a button Mini Moos, busy bees, mousey, and famously of course, Tigger the Tiger.

They're safe as houses.....and having been most carefully examined by the relevant powers that be, judged to be seriously good for little Flynn folk.

Wheely Bugs go backwards, forwards, sideways, round and round. They are able to be pushed (as you can see), ridden and pulled. Of sturdy construction with multi directional castors, nicely padded and ruff tuff vinyl clad that's easy to wipe down.

Being one of those women of a certain age, sans children, it is a small miracle that i knew EXACTLY where to find a Wheely Bug. http://www.funkygifthampers.com.au/ - that's where.

Justine, who owns this very very groovy business, sells not only Wheely Bugs, but INTG (In the Night Garden) and Captain Sportacus and amazing gift hampers to be delivered anywhere in Australia.

Now i'm off to learn all about the good Captain who hails from Finland and apparently has a sidekick called Robin(?). Can't be. Will report back.

points not pints & saving Buddy from the bullet

Bacchus isn't likely to do a doorstop at my place any time soon. He'd be getting coke and carbs. The image here is of a bacchinalian festivity.....i thought i'd put it in to remind myself of what once was
Despite my many blandishments, entreaties, sleights of the celery stick i languish in the world of stodge and german(s)
It is an ongoing fester. Those pathetic 20 points i've been allocated by the greater beings of weightwatchers - it's like a google algorithm determined by age, height, weight (i wonder why), occupation, etc.
I did pretty well day one, all things considering.
But time to come home and face the stove for the beloved (german) and all things broke loose. It was more than a few drops of any pint i needed. i ached for food. real food. not this 0 point vegetable business.
One is supposed to write down every itty bitty morsel that passes through the food orifice. This is so one manages to add up those 20 points. terrible idea.
Day 2 today: won't even talk about it.
But will talk about Buddy. Bumped into - No, i went looking for, the lovely Sarah Bell, artist, mother and soon to be new homemaker for Buddy the reject collie from somewhere near Rockhampton. Sarah and Roger have Osprey Blinds, just up the road from us and are on Luce's regular calling list. Luce being the Italian greyhound, for those who don't know. He's the one who is the most regular cause of my wallet being empty due to emergency vet visits.
Buddy is about to be shot, apparently, if no good home can be found for him. So Buddy is being rescued by the Bell family and will be coming to his new home on the 19th - obviously not a moment too soon.
Sarah, Roger and their two boys, Henry and Louis live in green surrounds, near Cooran and are busy making safe the area for Buddy's arrival. Lucky, lucky Buddy. Sarah said that Buddy's legs were too short to be a good working dog and there's no room for short legged collies from his neck of the woods.
I can't begin to describe my revulsion and horror at Buddy's alternatives.
I like Sarah. She's a very talented artist besides being an obviously compassionate soul.
we have another Sarah in our neighbourhood. She is also on Luce's visiting list; however lower as Other Sarah doesn't produce biccies.
aahhhh. relief - i got back to food. how neat was that. very tidy i do think.

stuffings of......

well: there'll be no more of that now!
my allocation is 20 points per day. and when i look at what 20 points per day will get me on the food ratings - it's not much.
obviously (now) i've been stuffing myself silly and that's why i've ended up at fat class.
silly silly me. blind to my own faults. as ever.
the book of rules says i can have a (small - jaesus, who ever has small, unless it's men and involuntary allocation of anatomical detailing) small glass of wine if i've saved up some spare points.
i'll be going to the point bank and asking for a loan.
the other aspect of stuffing is the bird.
no progress. still stuck in the sewing machine.
have rows of stuffing all lined up, ready to poke into that little fat birdie.
stuffing in this instance is polyester wadding. none of it looks that hot. got some loose stuffing - the craft shop said it was toys, etc. horrid! nasty and worse. lumpy silly flimsy stuff that wouldn't last a minute and cost a pretty penny. Speaking of which, Penny did that particular bit of stuffing on birdie No 1.

fat class was as expected. yes; i had to hop on the scales, but couldn't take my shoes off - "for health and hygiene reasons" explained by one of the helpers. i hope my horror doesn't show. The scales have a thin peel of plastic over them - you know the peel off sticky bits in the crotches of swimmies? a surreptitious squizz around the room and there must be 20 women, plus token male. that's 20 x 2 x 1 week x 50 (allow 2 off for chrimbo and natural disasters) so that's 1200 sets of feet stepping on those things per year. that's a lot of toe fluff. minus the token male here. and no; i'm not doing a recount to include him. ran out of digits a long time ago. and no more toe piccies. so gross. will try and find something more obscure.
quickly now for i have to bed to go.....
the italian has found new tenants. his record intact, it was their first day in the row and they were overhead to coo. Surreptitious peak outs saw the hound in full PR mode, tail-a-woggle - he can't wag. italian greyhounds do NOT wag their tails. their tails have a certain syncopation when in flight. straying - he is absolutely unbelievable. he can sniff out a new tenant in the road from one end to another. and off he goes to say hello, please admire me, i am so beautiful. which dutifully all and sundry do.
and finally i had a little fall from SW business today. nothing major, a momentary forgetfulness. what was this? i had the temerity, yes, temerity to observe that quality of products designated for my use were consistently inferior to quality of products chosen for husband's personal use. Oh dear. what a slip and how silly of me. i was reprimanded of course for questioning. right thing too!

fat class and stuffed birdies

I have a bird in the sewing machine.
It doesn't yet look like a bird. It's in the developmental stages.
Like my life. Which i might add is an incredibly long developmental stage.
I do hope, in those quiet times of self examination, that there is an imminent move on from this extended developmental period.
Perhaps i will so do after tonight's fat class.
Penny says the bird is a turkey. I think it's more like a duck.
However it did require some beak pruning and neck extensions as the stuffing procedure didn't quite work out.
I'm thinking of really exquisite japanese printed cottons. And i did think also of wiring little legs.
But apparently if we develop the bird to a selling point, then legs aren't an added bonus. They'll get in the way of packing.
No legs. Maybe later. Optional extra. Slim-line, full fat, flexible knees, full working order. Pick a box and make your very own selection for your personal bird with or without legs. Additional postage applies.
Back to fat class. Penny insisted i buy slim milk. Hate it. Horrid in coffee. Which is good as i drink much less coffee and tea.
Now i've added twitter to this blog site. But i can't figure out how to get twitter to the greater unwashed so that everytime i do it - blog - that i also tweet.
SO difficult. Will post fat stuff later.
My other friend, Goddess Dianne is telling me about twin sets for Stepford Wives. But that means less fat. Fat arms stuffed into cashmere sleeves are NOT a good look.
Only 2 friends. It varies. I'm up to 11 on Facebook. I guess that's ok seeing as i have made a career out of being overly injudiciously direct and indiscreet, judgemental and opinionated.
And this is all before fat class.
I can hardly wait til after. Maybe i'll find another friend.

have you thought about padded coathangers?

I have. They're like buying the perfect shoe.
Doesn't exist when you go shopping but proliferate like mad when you're not looking.
In my blog description i talk about textiles and i havent.
Talked about anything to do with textiles yet.
However: padded coathangers have been weighing (for you regulars you know i had to sneak that one in) heavily on my mind.
Still 2 days to inaugural weigh in.
I've been shopping the traditional way. Lots of petrol, shoe leather but no perfect padded hanger. Lots of dud and icky ones.silk fabric
I've done the research and i've come up with one company in the UK and there's a how to...make a padded coathanger.
But you know; they're not what i'd call a Bentley model.
Smooth as and beautifully padded so that every aspect is perfectly curved. And then the spaghetti strap holder upper bit, plus one for trousers to avoid the knee crease.
I want groovy, gorgeous fabrics in the finest of cotton and little bobbles on some to act as strap holders.
None to be had. And this has finally forced my hand. The workroom is now being organised. Mike the builder has appeared at least twice - due back who knows when - in the way of builders and the like. We are putting up vertical beams so that i can have rows of fabric strung through dowelling rods which should look pretty snazzy and very, very textile-ish. I've sorted ALL the patterns into sections. Hung the pegboard and carefully unravelled all the cottons.
And when all of this is done i will set to and attempt to make the perfect padded coathanger.
In the meantime i'm looking for fabrics. Do you know How HARD it is to find agents/wholesalers and the like to speak to you? they have a little club and i don't have a ticket.
Totally frustrating.

Sex and the Sofa - all about husbandry

i'm late. i said "tomorrow" which is yesterday.
blame it on slovenliness, Saturdays' and Sunday. today.
ssssss....sad - but i seem to be stuck on "s's
alliteration it is.
back to very important things. 2 days to the inaugural Weigh-in. i keep thinking about ice cream and getting hungry.
and now onto husbandry. apparently one shouldn't always agree with one's partner/husband/significant other. But i can assure you that in my household everything starts looking better when i simply say "yes" and "you're right" and "i really value your view"...yah, de yah, de yah.
the psychologists will have conniptions and a field day i know. but this is the bottom line.
It's called the "stepford wife syndrome".
The cringe factor is completely off the richter scale; i simply do NOT bother with making any intelligent, rational private observations to myself about the state of my life and how it has come to this. because come to this it has and this IS the state of my life and i simply need to do something to make it altogether more bearable with satisfactory outcomes.
NO: leaving is not an option. So making it better is.
And i need to do what ever is necessary to achieve this goal.
Agreement is King Kong of the wood heap.
Once i started agreeing; there were no arguments. If i agree to everything, there is no room for any dispute, nastiness, meanness (oh well - maybe - but more on that in another missil)
think about this: in business we call it negotiation and compromise and successful people are highly skilled at both.
for we know there is a goal and quite frankly most people will do an awful lot of negotiating and compromising to achieve this goal. Note: i do say "Most".
The buddhist way of life maintains that ego is a trip point. Ego can prevent us negotiating the path to negotiation. We throw up hugely emotive words like humiliation, unfair, discrimination, equal rights, abuse. And we should examine these thoughts and processes very carefully to determine whether there is a measure of dignity that will be lost if we proceed down the negotiating path.
What is dignity? a greater or lesser degree of embarrassment? or some deep level of consideration of another person?
My dignity is intact for i have concluded that when i remove the agitators in this washing machine of life i remove the friction agent that causes the "rub" and then the irritation etc. etc.
My dignity is intact because i have examined this dignity business and found it greatly overrated. it depends enormously on your feeling of self-worthiness according to others.
But: you're still wincing. how can this woman publicly state that she is (happy to) adopt "Stepford Wife" tactics. isn't this the most massive and utter sell out on a fundamental level.
Maybe - maybe not. i have not become robotic in my thinking. I have completely independently, decided upon a course of action to achieve my goal.

OH- sex and the sofa.

where did that come in to all of this? it's sunday and alliteration day and we all love sofas on the weekend for relaxing, for lounging, for.........trimming toe-nails and the art of loving.....

the weighty subject of husbandry

firstly: i've put out an SOS to all and sundry for top tips in keeping your husband happy.you didn't think i was talking about the four legged critters ever did you????

husbandry. it's an art form. a highly intensive discipline.

and related: i shall haul my size xxxx knickers on tuesday next to the ivory Palms resort at 5.30pm and check in to weightwatchers. yes: it HAS come to this. and NO, i'm not telling what size. just forget it.

i'll tell when/if they ever get to the teeny weeny itty bitty bikini level. meanwhile take your visions and wet dreams elsewhere and keep this screen clean please.

Thus far i've been overwhelmed with responses on the top tips to keeping your husband happy.

Today's little pearl of wisdom is:

Sex, sex, sex, sex and sex. Apparently this is important. I did mention in an earlier epistle that i have been pretty dismal in husbandry success ratings. hmmmm. there you are - it's at the tippy top, hands down, no competition - outside winner in the best top tip to keeping your husband happy.

Although one smart woman, my pal Madeleine from somewhere in the northern states of the great US of A opined on whether husbands are ever happy. I think her words were, and forgive me Madeleine if i mis-quote: less grumpy perhaps, content maybe....but happy?

Tomorrow's tip is interesting and to me, at least, somewhat surprising. i wonder whether you'll agree.

now: i hope i've whetted your appetite for all of this. Do tune in again tomorrow. same spot. more getting of wisdom.

more blah to the blog

i can't believe it. my hard worked blog has vanished.

i had just found this great image and pasted it in. this post has been tough going. just one of those days when the sweet juices of great content are just not jizzing.

mutterings about index fingers. obtuse and worse.

warblings about blog experts and instant visions of wealth via fresh content which is where the visual came in.

let me go try this again. yup - there it is. the apple. fresh is best like content is king.

refresh. went to hairdresser. pretty sandal broke. looking v. porky. ahhhhh. now i remember.
it's the "W" time. ritualistic public humiliation of the weigh-in.

the only thing that works for me. such a simple soul.

even the hounds are looking fat.

drama with the Italian Greyhound

What do you do when your dog is stung by a bee?
In this case - panic!
I don't know who had the most palpitations - Luce (the italian greyhound) or me.
Phil, one of our fellow business owners appeared at the door saying something was wrong with Luce. He'd been reclining in the $5.00 dollar basket - as he does - when Phil and Sandy noticed he'd suddenly leapt up and disappeared. Following they'd found him on the footpath. Wobbly, panting.
Interested parties on the increase. The dog is popular.
Given Luce's record of rabid reaction to almost anything and everything - i got my bottom off it's post quicker than a flea in flight.
Calling shotgun to Ms Justy (my offline friend referred to in an earlier post - read, read, read i exhort you my friends!)
Clutching panting hound to breast - no you ejjits - it wasn't my breasts he was panting over. Well, yes he was panting over them to be the pedant, but not panting about them....Lordy, give me strength with the blogerati
Ms Justy says "give me the keys and go". But first Ms Justy went looking and came back with a bee in a bottle. Poor bee. Not very well. The bee, pour soul had obviously been sharing the $5.00 basket with Luce. Neither of them particularly benefiting from the experience.
Vet time.
I have a sense of resignation about Luce and vet bills.
A bit like my sense of resignation about husband(ry) and happiness.
There's no point fighting the inevitable.
Some time later, the hound and i returned to base. Hound fine. He's back out on the turn already, toured his fan club, looking for treats, avoiding the bee basket and recumbent in his favourite afternoon sunning spot.

friends, who needs 'em?

This social revolution called "Facebook" et al, is an insidious, invidious beast of social collusion.

OK. I've only got 3 friends in the whole world apparently and i am NOT, NOT, NOT happy about this.

Obviously it has forced a major rethink of my friend finding strategy.

Should i have done better? (of course, else why would i be here with only 3 friends and whinging like crazy about it?)

But hang on.

My off line friend Ms. Justy, says sites like f-book are nasty for they encourage invasion of privacy. Someone posted a photo including Ms Justy on F-book - without her permission. Ms Justy isn't on facebook, she doesn't ever want to be on facebook and she certainly has the right to request that her photo isn't included.

There was a major kerchoo over this slight of courtesy and ignorance about privacy with the result that Ms J is now considered, by the pro f-book camp, to be "difficult".

I'm with her.

Opinionated, outspoken, injudicious with my comments and definitely that minnow against the overwelming tide.

Now; where was i in my cant on the 3 friend count????

Blah to the blog...............

I'm new to this and boy-oh-0boy is it a minefield of information overload.

Each new page i scan, each email newsletter i get, i kinda hope that there's going to be the "magic key".

But of course not.


All the signposts are one way jobbies with a simple message. "Keep trucking, Babe."

like riding that bicycle, i'm going to fall off and have a major dose of the wobbles; but apparently it's going to get better. And if i do this every single day, all good things will be mine.

I can hardly wait.

Husbandry...and other irritations

I admit-
I'm just not good at the art of husbandry. I'm sure there are thousands of experts, self help, self proclaimed, published, professional, proven and other - who can offer me 10 simple steps to husbanding happiness.
But where are they at that any given moment of crucial blindingly clarifying ephiphanical (is that a word????) moment when one has the life defining realisation.....
I did this. I made the decisions. I have brought this upon myself and there is just no-one, simply no-one else to blame
The aforesaid experts and others can leap about in a frenzy of pontification and worse, oh much much worse - the FREE ADVICE (which, haven't you noticed, is always for your own GOOD!) yeah, right. well - if it's that good - then why give it away?
But no; it's not a breakthrough. It's not a leap forward. It's not anything.
Except a millisecond of honesty in the midst of billions who are struggling with their own self doubts and much much worse - starvation, abuse, homelessness and spiritual longing.
As to being depressed about it? How self absorbed is that in the light of the immediately preceding comment.
Natch. Gotta learn about love and life and the making of happiness. A little less turpitude, a little more giving....some strong moral fibre where one takes ownership of the good, the bad, the ugly and the plain ol' mr and mrs indifference.
it's not an easy lot - far from my own husband's oft stated wish.
but i've noticed, and this is an admission dragged from the depths of a most reluctant soul, that once one manages to do something that is a little more noble, there is an uplift of the shoulders and more pleasing set to the disposition.
Oh....other irritations? perhaps i should just concentrate a little more, just this once, on managing the uplift

beauty begins at......

It used to be "at home".
But who has time to do the waxing, plucking, plumping these days?
and who can keep up with all the latest in keeping young, keeping beautiful and well....just keeping it?
My friend Noelle came up with the most brilliant concept some years ago. It's all "Blow" you know, she said.
There were a few snorts, sniggers and sniffs.
But she hung in there and hung on to the name, the concept
and then, golly gosh go lightly, she went and did it.
And brilliantly.
The Irish beauties among us are now even more beautiful. "Blow" is the total beauty experience. Washes, cuts, dries, waxes, shines, polishes, buffs, primps and pretties.
Noelle is one very smart woman. She knows that women are on the run. Women can run in and waft out of any of her salons - all located in very handy parts of cosmopolitan Dublin, almost 24/7.
I'm waiting of course for the first Blow by Blow experience to come to my very own little aloha ha paradise in downtown Noosa on the Sunshine Coast of Australia.
But first i need to tempt ms noelle to stay. This is not so easy it seems. The Blow empire is a busy one.
What do i do? Send photos of my own state of unkemptness and despair?
Somehow that's just not going to swing the Blow metre my way, methinks.
I need compelling evidence.
I shall have to work hard on this. But meanwhile i'll send her links to simply stunning holiday homes overlooking Laguna Bay with little stick figures and cartoon bubbles, saying "this could be YOU!"
And of course i'm saving my dollars so that i can hightail my not so inconsiderable bottom (please Paris, don't say a thing) to the home of my heart - Ireland - and for just the price of a return air fare, sample a little bit of Blow for meself.

the getting of "G"

living with a chronic lung condition isn't very g-lamourous.
i have lymphangioleiomyomatosis. Called LAM for short for obvious reasons. Uhuh - yes it did take about 3 weeks to learn how to pronounce this 26 letter word. something like this - lymph-ang-eeo-leo-myo-ma-tosis.
Oh, the privilege of having a weird disease. Firstly: i was lucky to have a reasonably rapid correct diagnosis. 2ndly: i was incredibly lucky to have a respiratory consultant with whom i established a fantastic rapport. Dr Charlie Gallagher of St. Vincents Private Consultants Clinic, Dublin Ireland.
3rdly: i was incredibly lucky to have a bolshie, questing spirit.
and 4thly: i'm even more lucky to have a more mild form of this sometimes fatal condition.
How does it work? Abnormal smooth muscle proliferation appears mostly in the lung tissues, sometimes the lymphatics and even more rarely in the abdomen. Sometimes there are non malignent lymphoma thingies in the kidneys. The smooth muscle cell eats away at the smallest airways in the lungs, destroying tissue and therefore severly inhibiting lung function.
Symptoms vary: shortness of breath, misdiagnosis of emphysema, lung collapses (pneumothorax), coughing up blood, extreme and chronic tiredness. Diagnosis includes ct scan.
Whoops - i have a 5th - i am still trucking on OK some 8 years after an initially extremely gloomy diagnosis. Whilst i think there have been one or two reported cases of men, LAM seems to confine its appearance to women. Cause is still unknown, management unknown, outcome definitely known but not one you'd like to own.
The best place to go for information, support, donations and advice is The Lam Foundation. This charitable foundation was established by Sue Byrnes, mother of Andrea a LAM patient.
Now you know why i insist getting that "g" into lam. Life is for g-eeing the lam!

Luce the little italian (greyhound)

.....this dog is a true "show pony". all the dogs - there are 3 - come to work. Only Luce tours the neighbourhood in daily search of the most recumbent spot, protected sun, donor of the nicest biccie and opportunity to garner maximum coo.
A rescue and a wreck at first. Abused and called "Butch" - Now, at 6 he is amazingly socialised and social Fantastic with children and nervous nellies. He needs his own PR agent.
Toilet habits are a bit woeful with winter months, rain and damp grass not to his liking. I have never been able to overcome his propensity of living room toilet. And boy, have i tried.
So any magic cure suggestions will be most welcome.
A true "Iggy" he loves the comforts of sleeping between the covers. Our fellow business neighbours have provided various comforts for his daily visits - a sofa with soft throw; the $5 dollar special basket moved to just the right sun spot by the door; fresh water bowls, and favourite blue mats...............
This boy has survived some harrowing illnesses and our wallets have barely survived the cure.
He is possibly fatally allergic to a particular flea and tick treatment His body went into terrible shock with temperatures over 42 degrees, neurological trauma, shivering, pain, inability to walk.
Survive he did, thanks to the wonderful medical care of a specialist vet clinic in Brisbane and here to give us daily joy.