Eleventy Million Thanks to Q!


This blog is brought to you courtesy of Quokka’s former Mac, that she sweetly scrubbed and gifted to Elf Boy.  Because my computer’s died.  I think it’s just the screen, but because I’m on the usual festive work-till-you-drop hours I’ll have as much chance of getting to Hardly Normal to replace it as Q will of having any privacy in her own backyard, or Catty would of enjoying a crockpot meal with the Boss.  On the same day, in the same house for the latter, I mean.

So Q – Thank You!


116 Responses

  1. Awww. It must be true – nobody’s *all* bad. But I know something nice you could do for Q. Get Gigantor to book in to Bog Hollow and let his creative mind do the rest. Plagues of roaches? Things that go bump in the night? Disturbing smells?

  2. Thanks?
    Whew. That’s a relief. When I saw that on twitter I assumed it was the word count I’d clocked at your blog whining about the freaks in our street.
    You will fall in love with the Mac, MM – just you wait & see.
    Mwah, and Enjoy.
    Oh and commiserations on the death of your screen – for the sake of your bank account, lets hope that’s all it is.

  3. Oh, even if it was the whole damn thing I have a few tame geeks who both work for beer money. And a modest but adequate income. Huzzah to employment!

    GB would probably know … GB, the box itself makes all the proper sounds and flashy lights but the screen is dead. The LED that shows it’s getting power changes colour, but the screen is black. Even when my hard drive has dies in the past you get the blue screen of death so I figure screen issue, possibly even box to screen cable. What do you reckon?

  4. Erm, given what you said about the puppy, have you checked to see if she’s chewed through the cable?
    Our Turks did that with the speaker wire to the stereo when they were kittens. We had to wrap everything in duct tape. God I was pleased when they grew out of that.

  5. If you would like… any of Madam’s coterie, would like a good read over Christmas, be warned that THE BOOK has now been released to thunderous applause and several sales.
    Harry Fromm is in jail but unless he gets out and passes on information only he possesses, three billion people will die and nobody is listening. It takes over 400 pages to say that, but one would hope a reader of discernment and curiosity would enjoy the journey.
    “Cull” by Stafford Ray, at your book store or at booktopia.com.au
    This impossible project started with a silly old bugger being stranded aboard a sailing yacht for ten years, much of it around SE Queensland with nothing better to do than to blog and read comments on Madam Morgana’s occasional but kinky contributions to the betterment of National Literacy. (NAPLAN is coming your way). XX

  6. Woohoo!
    Congrats, Stafford.
    That must feel pretty damned blurry good.
    Nicely done.

  7. Oh & MM if you get any midnight insomnia boredom urges, you know you can go to the itunes store & download what should be a free app for tweetdeck on the imac, and get it password protected, and twitter will finally make sense?
    You can even sort the crazies into columns where their ADHD is mercifully contained in one long spewing stream of hyperactivity, & you can mute & block at will.
    It’s a fabulous news source.

  8. Stafford! Congratulations and I certainly will. Available at Annie’s at Peregian I hope? If not I’ll ask her to get it in.

    Well, I’m back on the PC – it was just the cable, but because I’d squashed it not the dog chewed it. Not that I’d put it past her, but she can’t get at the back of the box easily. A friend’s partner kindly sorted it out for me last night. I’m very cunning to befriend women with useful husband’s, am I not?

    But EB wants to swap … gaming something video card something something … so I may yet join you on the Dark Side.

  9. Well that’s happy news that it’s fixed, and so easily. And that swap deal might work out well for both of you. I would imagine that the mac, due to it’s age, can’t keep up with the latest software requirements for nuking zombies & aliens. If he starts pestering you for the latest 27″ imac, Mea Culpa. Still, I adore mine even now that it’s a year old &, according to the scribe, cannot hold a candle to their latest model.
    So, what plans for this supposedly soggy & stormy weekend, MM.
    You’re due to bacon tomorrow aren’t you?
    I’m sure Jenny said there was a 95% chance of showers, rain & storms from here to the coast for today & tomorrow, and tomorrow is meant to be when the storm warnings will go out in earnest.
    Surely they’ll call it off?
    Perhaps if you tell Boss Hog how my agent friend can’t get her hail-pocked car fixed till March, it might persuade him that you all need a day to sleep in.
    The Drej is a panel beater & he said that from the day after the storm they were inundated with requests to fix hail damage, as the brisbane panel beaters couldn’t cope with the work load. So I’d imagine if Brisbanites are taking their cars as far south as Tweed for repairs, the smash repairers up your way are probably just as busy.

  10. Yay Stafford! It sounds like my kind of book. Congratulations!

    Updating an old mac isn’t that expensive. I have a 1999 clamshell that merely needed a bigger memory card to update it to the latest software. It was surprisingly cheap – about $150 all up, and that included the memory card and the software. Not that I use the clamshell any more, I’ve got my precioussss for writing in bed. I also have a notebook and pen, which for some reason is still my preferred method of writing when the Muse (or the Boss’s flatulence) wakes me up in the middle of the night.

  11. Hehehe. I still remember the Boss Fart Saga.

    Q, I am bacon free this weekend but we’re going up to the farm tomorrow. i wanted to get a useful present for Uncle and Aunt that they wouldn’t make me keep so I’ve got a station wagon full of lucerne for the mini horses. Cricket was stopped due to rain so we got an early mark – huzzah!

    Saw the BOM on various iPhones – surely you’re getting some lovely rain?

  12. A gift of grass, eh? When I first met your Uncle RV in the early 70s I imagine he’d have enjoyed that immensely.
    I’m sure they’ll love the lucerne & you’re right, even the most strident vegetarian is unlikely to think you’ll eat a station wagon full of hay.

  13. You know, he used to be a big drinker and certainly many of his friends smoked their heads off but I’m not sure Uncle himself ever did.

    And owing to the inclement weather we’re not going now. I’ll have to turn my garage into a stable. If the Messiah shows up, I’ll be sure to Tweet.

  14. The horsey crowd in that era liked the occasional toke but were never excessive about it.
    Rats and damnation to the delay to your trip, though.
    It sounds like there’s some very nasty storms brewing this week so that’s probably very prudent, MM.
    I drove The Bloke out to Springfield to play golf this morning, as I didn’t want him driving home after 3pm when the storms are likely to hit. Not that we’re expecting such vicious ice missiles but there will be strong winds & I don’t want a koala’s residence to wind up on top of my precious C4.
    I’ve left him to the tender mercies of his golf mates & since one of them lives at South Bank I figure he’ll get home somehow, even if it means one of them dropping him off at the train.

    I’m very impressed with the thought that has gone into planning this new suburb – from what little I’ve seen of it, it’s very well thought out. Turns out Spanner & his ilk serve some useful purpose other than for twitter to enjoy it’s daily bout of public-servant taunting, after all.

    Have you been seduced by the lovely ordered columns of tweetdeck, yet?
    Every now & then I access ordinary twitter on my iphone & I can’t believe the chaos that resides there. Tweetdeck is sooooo much better.

    So what are you up to on this lovely grey bacon & cricket free day?
    Catty is, I think, sitting under the biggest BOM blob in the entire country so I think we can guarantee we won’t be seeing her on the internet today.

  15. It’s a *little* cool and grey here. OK 15 deg and drizzling. I’m modelling necklaces for GD which she finds most amusing. Catty is coming over tomorrow to inspect the New Scurvy Dog Tavern – maybe we should Skype you? No, sorry – forgot the tech-destroying force field. Also laying in Xmas supplies – 1kg bacon, check.

  16. Deck the halls with slabs of bacon
    Tra la la la la, la la la la
    Tis the season to be takin’

    Q, I thought I might wraps gifts. One of the bits of Xmas I actually enjoy.

  17. Yes that is a more relaxing task than shopping for them.
    Well, I have defrosted the freezer. I’m planning to make cauliflower cheese soup today, but thanks to the midnight cattle dog chorus, which I could hear despite windows shut, AC on and industrial strength ear plugs stuffed halfway through my skull, that will have to wait until I’ve had a little nap.

    I told you we went for a dog walk to establish the cattle-dog’s address, the better to complain to council – and we discovered cattle dogs yelping at every third house in the one block? So I don’t know how I’ll figure out which house it is without asking one of the residents ‘Is your dog the mongrel yelping SOAB that wakes me up at night?’

    Not very neighbourly, or christmassy, but I’m wishing death by paralysis tick on the lot of them.

  18. They’d stop yapping if they has some cattle to chase. Buy up some stock from a drought-declared farmer and drove them down the affected street.

  19. That or a flock of sheep.
    Hmm, perhaps if I round up all the coconut oil fad food freaks around here, perhaps the cattle dogs won’t know the difference.

  20. Love to chat but Catty’s coming over this morning and I have to oil the hinges on the trapdoor. Uh, you probably shouldn’t read that bit Catty…

  21. LOL.
    Catty is tall, GB, even if you do manage to drop her down pit, the dungeon roof will only come up to her 7th rib. If I were you I’d watch your manky knee trying to wrangle the rest of her down there.

    • Actually the trapdoor is only in case The Teen comes too. I’m sure Catty will pay an unransom for us to keep her there. Mayhem’s Mum can teach her to knit and all sorts of etiquette-y things.

  22. Tatting, hand-to-hand combat, home delouser recipies?

    Give Catty a big hug from me and whisper “noms are on their way”.

  23. Sigh.
    I knew there was something I forgot to do down at Coals just then.
    Catty your present is in the hoarding cupboard.
    One of these days I’ll remember it. And at least it’s safe from the hail.
    The threat of which looms upon us & I am immensely grateful as it’s driven NTO from her scritching post & it means we’ve got some peace and quiet.

  24. The Beard Abode is mind-bogglingly wonderful, especially with all the amazing bookshelves crammed full of even more amazing books. My own lowly hovel now seems even lowlier by comparison. And dirtier. Good gracious, a toddler practically lives there, how does Fifi keep her white walls white? I feel so inferior….

    • Catty it was lovely to have you here, even if our hospitality was ill-prepared (Mrs Fields cookies? The shame!) As for the books, we’re addicts – there’s no nice way to say it or sugar coat it. We’re just sad. There are three reasons for the deceptively clean appearance.
      1) We haven’t been here very long
      2) The toddler in question cleans up after herself. (This is true and her mother is going straight to hell for it, but the poor wee lamb says Keen! and asks for a wet cloth. I watched while she cleaned the blackboard and playtable – top and seats – after we’d been drawing with chalks and crayons the other day. I felt so guilty but she seems to enjoy it. This cannot end well.)
      3) If I don’t do the cleaning, Fifi beats me wi- aaargh! No! Not that!

      • She is the perfect match for my EB. For dearly he loves to make a mess.

  25. In a past life I used to tend to a room full of toddlers, GB, and they all loved cleaning.
    It’s one of nature’s tricks to make you think it’s safe to have more.
    Once they’re teenagers, of course, and you’ve got four, they drop the act and revert to their natural state of Generation Filth.

    The Grand Evil, having a greater core percentage of evil than most, is just setting you all up for the coming of Little Lucifer.
    I probably shouldn’t tell you these things but I’m bracing myself for a visit from the Louise Hay Cult converts later in the week & the damage from head-to-desk is making me delirious.
    That and the smell of NTO’s paint.
    Yes, she’s decided that sanding Flat 4 is not a satisfying task when absolutely nothing moves in my house or yard, unless you count watching a cat drop it’s dacks and stink up the kitteh litter – and she’s picked up the pace and has progressed to the undercoat.
    I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to do the second level of Bog Hollow, which is what she’s up to now. She’d need some serious scaffolding to get her 4-6m high & as you know, safe work practices don’t factor into the equation.
    Perhaps she’ll wise up & get professionals to do it so she can do something she enjoys, like a sunflower mural on the concrete.

  26. Or tomato plants on the carport roof.

    Greybeard, it was an honour to visit, and your hospitality was exemplary – I can’t remember the last time I had such wonderful coffee. And I would have been all over those Mrs Fields cookies like seagulls on a chip if I hadn’t attempted a piece of almond bread first. The burst of arthritic pain in my poor jaw reminded me why the doctor said not to chew. Ouch… Don’t forget to look me up when you’re over Burwood way. I haven’t been baking today, but the worst of the filth has been scraped into various cupboards so there might be an empty seat to sit on.

  27. Thanks Catty. But since you missed the alleged cherub/Grand Evil, I’ve provided a warning photo or two. I was told quite firmly to lie “down! dere!” so that I could be bounced on. Should never have read her Hop on Pop.

    The aura of evil is almost palpable.

  28. Don’t be fooled by Seuss’s Sleep Book either, GB. I’ve only ever found it causes demands for the Sneeches. Although I’m pretty sure I fell asleep reading it once or twice,

    Q, maybe you should just subscribe her to the Weather Warning alerts? I’ve had so many emails threatening catastrophe this week I wouldn’t even go to paint my toenails. Oh, wait, I forgot I’m not insane. Currently.

    Catty, I’ve done a bad thing. Part of your noms are chewy, I forgot about the arthritis. Can you pound them with a hammer and lick up the dust? Apologies, I’m an idiot. But not currently insane.

  29. That Grand Evil is a happy little soul, isn’t she? Do you ever get angry faces or is she saving those for her teenage years?
    And don’t feel too bad about it MM ,I’d forgotten about the chewing hazard too. Mercifully my brain still retained that information while I was stocking the Hoarding Closet so your present won’t require anything more than licking or gumming, Catty.
    I’ve written myself two notes and I’ve set an ipad calendar alert to remind me to post it on Monday when I go to do the grocery shopping. So that should Idiot Proof me from slinking past the post office again going ‘DOH!’
    That might be cutting it fine a bit, but it will get there eventually.
    As for NTO, I put a load of washing on at quarter to six & watered my plants, and that was her cue to climb the stairs outside Flat 4 & start peering over the fence & through their windows to see if they’d left for the day & to calculate if anyone inside would yell at her if she starts painting.
    She painted all day yesterday – check the BOM observations if you don’t believe me, but the apparent temp ranged from 32-36C and she was out there in it with her paint brush the entire day.
    The storms skipped us & we didn’t get rain till around 8pm. I waited up till 9 for it to turn into something exciting, but Nada.
    The Bloke got home at 6.30pm & walked in shaking his head, because he’d seen NTO rapping at the door of the Roman Senators & when nobody appeared, she let herself in & she shut all their windows. The ones on the north – um, duh, but with the rain coming from the south there was no need to turn their flat into an oven. I had all of our casements wide open & when the rain did come there was no need to shut them even by a few inches.
    Irma is hovering so I’m admittedly a bit antsy but OMG that woman makes my skin crawl.
    Those poor children, when they got in last night that flat must have been an oven.
    So the Bloke was shaking his head at the violation of tenants’ rights & of ordinary decent respect for privacy & boundaries. I just blinked at him & said ‘Do you not listen to me? She does it all the time & the agent does it too. They are just awful, awful slum lords & I can’t fathom why any of those kids puts up with it.’

    All I can think is that they regard her as some sort of paint-gun armed security guard & they must stay there because they know that their lap tops & x-boxes are safe because there’s no chance the local junkies would ever get past her.

  30. Or maybe she’s BFFs with their mothers?

  31. She doesn’t have friends, she has obsessions and empty paint tins.
    There is one woman who visits weekly for 2 hours in the morning, parks her very small hatch badly, thus ensuring bad parking choices by others in the street, makes soothing clucking sounds until lunch time & then leaves. At which point NTO resumes whatever deranged activity she was doing before she made it all Vanish before the visitor arrived.
    Due to NTO’s frantic efforts to appear normal in front of this person, and to conceal all signs of her psychopathy, I refer to her as ‘The Case Worker assigned to NTO.’

  32. Hmm, you’re right. Sounds like a social worker. They’re always appalling drivers, smurfed if I know why.

  33. It’s all the dope they smoke & the booze they belt down and the pills that they pop to keep the lid on the bats in their belfry and the ghouls in their attics.

  34. We had bats in the attic once. Really cute little guys with leathery looking but delicate wings. And you’ve never felt such soft fur! Ghouls on the other hand prefer cold, dank earth – or so I’m told.

  35. There should be plenty of dank earth around Vagus as of Friday, Khan GB.
    BOM are predicting rainfall in excess of 100mm, as well as more nasty thunderstorms. When I drove The Bloke to the railway station I noticed that they’ve already started sandbagging properties near the storm water drains where the (major arterial) road under the railway bridge usually gets flooded.

    Miracle Girl is meant to be coming down to Brisbane for the day with her sister, on Friday. I warned them about the rain event, yesterday, but got no response.
    I suppose if a light shower didn’t stop her climbing a mountain – although it did serve to hasten her descent down – then a mountain of water won’t discourage them from driving down to Brisbane. And then back again, along with the flood of school holiday tourists who are heading north for the sole purpose of tormenting Morgana in the kettle crisp aisle at Coals.

    The Bloke pointed out that I shouldn’t be surprised as they do descend from the same race that decided to invade Russia – in winter. And as it’s not me that will be stuck on the highway for 2-3 hours in blinding rain tomorrow night, I just need to make a nice batch of brownies, & remind myself ‘La La La – Not my problem.’
    Perhaps, compared to invading Russia, the drive back to Caloundra is a walk in the park in gentle spring rain, and I am just a sook, to see sandbags mounting on the kerbs and think ‘FAAAAAAARK!’

  36. Well MM, BOM have decided that you north coasters will be getting the bulk of Friday’s rain – 40-80mm of it – and we will get a measly 40mm.
    That’s much more to my liking, I wasn’t happy a the thought of 100mm+ dumping on my roof & backing up through the eaves while I’m entertaining guests.
    So it looks like the Big Sog is headed your way. With any luck the pitch will be afloat on Saturday & they’ll cancel your children’s cricket.
    Might be nice weather for staying indoors doting on cats.
    I am so pleased that your little adventurer returned.
    That was wonderful news to get last night, I’m so happy for you.

  37. Oh no, did your puppy wander off?

  38. Madam texted me last night that the missing twin of her Kittehs had returned after a long & traumatic absence. So there was much rejoicing.

  39. Yep, just peeped at Farcebook and saw that it were Flotsam. Cats eh? Though to be fair one of D#2’s rats used to do the same. He’d disappear under the house through a hole in the kitchen for days at a time. Sometimes they had to send another rat to lure him back. Dang Rupert.

  40. Oh, that’s wonderful news Madam! Thank goodness for that. I wonder which local lady cat was responsible for his absence?

  41. Keep an eye out in the cat food aisle at Coals for one with a crazed look (OK that is part of the job description) & lots of extra scratch & bite marks.

  42. Huzzah! To the rain event and to the prodigal pusska. I never thought of a lady cat. The boys have always said he’s very macho for a neutered Tom and the vet might have left a bit of ball in. Or maybe he’s stone butch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that …

  43. Vanessa herself supervised that knifing so there is no chance of that. I think it’s just personality, you often get a quiet twin and a wild one. It’s the yin & the yang of the uterus, born to Fluffiness.
    I think he’s more likely to have found someone nearby with a plusher recliner rocker than yours, a daily sushi habit and an aviary full of finches.
    And yes, huzzah to the rain event. If only it would last for a week instead of just 24 hours and then back to stinky summer.
    I have celebrated by making caramel fudge.
    It was experimental fudge as I can’t remember the last time I made it (why bother when that South Bank Markets Fudge lady does it so blurry well?) and its the first time I’ve used my caramel essence. Lovely stuff, I can’t wait to experiment using it with cakes.
    Anyhoo the fudge turned out quite well – it is the old fashioned sugary stuff, not the condensed milk type – and Irma & I have eaten rather a lot of it.
    It seems like a sensible thing to do, in this much rain.

  44. Mmm … fudge.

    Sorry, what were you saying? Oh, Flot. Uncle thinks maybe someone took him and locked him up a few cat walking days away, and then he bided his time until they let him out to roam and – huzzah! – he trotted home.

    Fits with reasonable condition yet ravaging hunger and relief on arrival. I still don’t know why someone would take him, though. He’s still wearing him harness, he’s obvs homed.

  45. Perhaps the harness made it easier for someone to grab him?
    It sounds like something a youngster would do – ‘this is a nice cat I’ll take him home to Eumundi’ – and then being teenager brained, the cat has shot out at the first opportunity & murdered his way through the birdlife on his way home.
    You need a Cat Tracker.
    It does sound like he’s truly remorseful, and he is a smart little fella so let’s hope he’s learned to be very, very wary of whoever it was that cat-napped him.

    And yes, the fudge is good.
    Funny how when I made it as a kid I used to do it by sight & feel & how reliant I’ve become, since then, on weights and measures. I used my sister’s home ec book but over time I adjusted the recipe for melt-in-your mouth buttery goodness. And I had a helluva time trying to work out how much butter to slice from the pack, when I’d always simply dumped the tablespoon into the soft butter & added a heaping scoop of it to the mix.

    I’m starting to appreciate the mysteries of my grandmother’s recipes a little more now that I realise how hopeless I can be at remembering the ins & outs of my own.

  46. You get a feel for things if you make them frequently, I think. I never measure for my pancakes … or anything else, come to that, but then I also don’t bake like you do. Baking is a precise art. Grandma knew how things should feel under the spoon, and smell, and act probably. Different sensory modailities.

  47. Well she did come from a family of professional bakers.
    The fudge is even better this morning, the cat woke me up at 4am & Irma insisted we should test it there & then.
    I’m going to make double chocolate brownies today to placate her, so I sent the Bloke to work with the tub of fudge.
    Gosh what a lovely grey drizzly day we’ve got here.
    NTO is of course outside painting Flat 4 in the drizzle.
    I can’t figure out if she’s stupid, compulsive, or has just reached the ‘i don’t give a damn i just want it finished’ phase. She’s now into her 6th month of weatherboard painting so if she was a normal person you’d think she’d be getting sick of it by now.
    Frankly I think she just gets her jollies by hanging over the fence waiting for my cats to climb into the kitteh litter and add some excitement to her day.

  48. Well, if Germans can make porn about people doing that …. no. I’ve got nothing. Nicht, as the Germans would say.

  49. Well, one positive is that we finally got the quote from the builder to finish off the courtyard etc. So at least we can get the ball rolling with finances & with any luck he will be able to get the lower roof on in January. I’m sure she’ll just find new and creative ways to try to see over the fence into our house & our yard but she’ll have to climb a whole lot higher in order to see anything & the higher she climbs, the higher the risk of the kind of injuries that will put an end to her stickybeaking ways.
    So that’s good, I was quite dismayed by the delay, especially when NTO started obsessing again about finding ways to see in here, after the ice storm.
    It started raining so since she went inside, I decided it was safe to go up the back & feed the birds.
    Nup. She came running outside & followed me up there to see what I was doing.
    I tell you what, this weekend I am sending the bloke out back to rig up some more screening to block her view into the back of our house.
    I can’t believe she is willing to stand on scaffolding in the rain in order to see inside our house – and that in six months of doing so, she hasn’t fallen off it and shattered her pelvis.

    There is No God.

  50. It’s not as if you even offer sacrifices to Chthulu naked, or entertain the pool boy.

    That I know of.

  51. I’ve said it before. The bloke in the courtyard, naked yoga = NFO to emergency.

  52. That might just get her excited.
    I think the only reason she spends 5 hours a day clutching an orbital sander is because she doesn’t know how to mail order a vibrator.

    • Oooh. Harsh (no, not like that).

  53. I am feeling particularly spiteful since the discovery that not only will she scritch in 34C+ temperatures but she will continue to do so in the pouring rain.
    It’s only a matter of time till she decides its reasonable to scritch all through the night, too.
    Counting down the seconds till the gates to hell – er, school, yawn open and release their screeching captives. With any luck she’ll lose interest in me & hone in on the teenagers doing drug deals.
    So, ladies, are you prepared for the school holidays?
    Vodka, valium, trank darts, fresh tethers for the clothesline?

  54. Wot about us non-ladies then eh? The shopping centres here are already packed to the gunnels with the older ones, roaming in small packs trying to catch each others attention in some vaguely recalled pre-mating ritual*.

    [*As a male I seem to remember the aim was to approach the herd (braving the side-glances of scorn and ill-concealed giggles of the full pack) and engage the object of your lus, er, affections in conversation. If the ensuing conversation occurred AND was successful, one might enjoy a night at the motion pictures – during which one’s sweaty paw might, just might, hold the cool and ever-so-mysterious hand of an actual female person. They did smell nice. We, alas, smelled of fear, panic, desperation and testosterone. The perfume was probably self-defense. I always liked girls. They talked about better things.]

  55. I love the smell of desperation in the morning. Reminds me of Uni.

  56. It’s particularly pungent in October but you do smell it on the roads in the fortnight leading up to December.
    I only just realised that the Bloke is off work for two weeks as of next Friday.
    That’ll be fun.
    How are your precious furballs, MM, are they both still happily housebound & how does Jet feel about having his brother back?
    My boys are inseparable; I can’t imagine how awful it would be to have one without the other. Admittedly they did spend much of last night alternating wrestling matches & bathing each other on the end of my bed so there was some Disturbance but they are just so gorgeous, two big boofy boy cats that adore each other that much.

  57. Flot is so happy to be back he’s not even asking to leave EB’s room. Jet seems unaltered. But someone pointed out they have no time sense so possibly he felt Flot was just gone a day or two.

  58. That says a lot for their measure of contentedness.
    Wouldn’t it be lovely if Flot just voluntarily became a house cat?
    It sounds like he may have given it serious thought over the last few weeks.
    Can’t you just imagine him bargaining with God ‘Just get me out of here and let me get home safely and I swear I will never leave my precious Elf Boy’s room again. I will just sit and purr and smooch while they pet me & bring me tasty snacks.’

  59. Hehehe. Actually, I can. Darling boy, he’s quite clearly thrilled to be home. The little bugger.

  60. I see where Pope Francis the Controversial and Probably Overdue for a Sudden Fatal Illness has told some kid his dog will go to Heaven. Sure, why not sez I. As long as he doesn’t make any stupid comment like that about cats. They will obviously return to the hell from which they came.

  61. I thought this new Pope would be a breath of fresh air after that weird German bloke. But, no. Frankie just keeps saying stuff that flies in the face of the Church’s Doctrine. Dogs go to heaven? Pfft. I’m beginning to think he hasn’t read the Doctrine at all, and is just making it up as he goes along.

  62. I had a lot of time for him until he refused to meet the Dalai Lama. Now he’s dead to me. Dead in Dog Heaven.

  63. I wonder where heaven will put all the dog poop?

  64. They’ve got a contract with Hell. That’s what they use for road surfacing in Jogger Hell.

  65. I kinda thought they would just kick the poop off the edge of the clouds. Then I realised that it might stick in the toes of those funky sandals everyone up there wears under their long white robes. THEN I remembered that it’s a moot point, because there’s no dogs in heaven. Ergo, dogs don’t go to heaven because nobody wants shit in their sandals.

  66. Catty they give that job to the joggers that go to heaven because they don’t give a damn what they step in.
    Heh MM when your dog is pooping on the footpath & you are trying to clean it up do joggers try to run straight through that?
    I get that a lot, and they seem oblivious to my frantic waving of the fluoro orange biodegradable bag.
    One time at South Bank I just stepped back and let the idiot jogger girl go ‘splat’ in it.
    The tourists thought it was hilarious & I flourished & bowed while the dog twirled, so there’ll be photos of that all over Japan Facebook.

  67. We hardly have joggers, just a few botoxed looking women of a certain age. Plenty of walkers, but not many joggers. I think ours are all surfing. Or living in inner Brisbane and ploughing through your dog mess.

  68. We have walkers with dogs. Lots of walkers, lots of dogs. At certain times in the morning and early evening you can’t throw a rock without hitting one or the other, and heaven knows I’ve tried. Most of them are poo-takers though so that’s good.
    We just put the Evil in her cot for a nap and I’m on listening duty to see she settles. Ha! A smile, a kiss and a hug of Bunsy and we’re right for a couple of hours – Sod’s Law probably means we’ll pay for this later in life but who cares. For your amusement I shall reveal that we were trying on BEEDS, i.e. Lyn’s necklaces etc. Apparently I was rocking that silver, jet and amber number, judging by her amusement. I was a bit concerned about the rosary she insisted I wear but it didn’t burst into flames or strangle me.

  69. Be careful of that rainbow rosary of Lynn’s grandma’s. It’s totes adorbs.

  70. I thought we’d decided it was totes a horcrux?

  71. Can’t it be both?

  72. It would explain why all these precambrian popes live for so long.

  73. I suspect they didn’t actually live long at all – it could very well have been one of those Ghost-Who-Walks scenarios, with the most murderous Cardinal ready to step in under the Mitre when the arsenic kicked in. All those men in dresses look alike. Who’s going to know?

  74. Off topic (No! Seriously?) but just found another reason to be in Melbourne. Long chat with one of my nieces revealed that bro-in-law is even more of a selfish Tory jerk than I’d suspected. He was married to my late and very much loved sister. After she died he took up with an old friend of hers with 1/2 of the brain and 10x the money and an impeccable Tory heritage (Rule Britannia). So they go overseas regularly and to her holiday house and her town house and gradually his kids and grandkids have begun to smell a bit, well, poor and lefty. Today I discovered that he hasn’t seen any of the five grandkids down here or his children for two years! They’ve invited him to stay but he’s declined because “he’d only see them on weekends and what would they do for the rest of the week?” Presumably Melbourne lacks a Parthenon or Coliseum – not that he has any interest in history. We’ve always got on well with his kids etc and seen them whenever we visited and since we moved but it’s too much trouble for him. Jerk! They’re coming over for feasting and presents and a reminder that there are old people who love them. My sister would be turning in her grave if we hadn’t put her ashes under the new tree in the churchyard. I hope it drops a large branch on his head.

  75. “Cricket-ball sized hail hits Sunshine Coast”. Stay safe MM.

  76. That’s just horrible! Then again, the poor wee kidlets have nothing to gain by spending time with a rat bastard. Good on you for filling the gap, GB. Your sister would be proud.

    Catty …. hehehe. The pope’s got a big knuckleduster of a ring, also. Shame he doesn’t have a canine companion, although I believe a few did father sets of twins.

  77. Heh heh heh.
    MM will be OK in cricket ball sized hail, Khan GB, she’s got an entire team of junior cricketers to bat them out of the way & that enormous hound to retrieve the ones that got away. She can save those for me to bat through NTO’s skylights in the next biblical battering that rains down over Brisbane.

    As for your obnoxious BIL, I have relatives like that & every opportunity for a missed visit was a reason to high-five someone. I am quite, quite certain that as much as these kids might miss having a father, if he did visit they’d probably be wishing him elsewhere, and I have no doubt they’d much rather spend time with you.
    As much as it hurts to have a relative like that ignoring you, the alternative is to have them inflicting steady suffering & chaos on your life & most of us realise that at some point & are grateful for what we find to replace it.
    Good on you for filling a hole in their lives.
    Just be aware that sometimes the truly awkward thing is in admitting to people that you’d really rather not be around a parent like that & when they die, there’s a sense of guilty relief that they’re gone, the awkwardness being that people expect you to miss them. The reality being that you’ve grieved for the parent they are unable to be for years before their death, so by the time they do go, your grieving is already done.

  78. I’m going to give all my rellies an extra-long hug this Christmas. Sure, we’re mental but at least we’re bonded. And loving.

  79. My relatives are bonded – oh wait that’s bail bonded.
    Carry on.

  80. Ta muchly. At least our kids don’t have that* worry. Had a chat with Hairy Greybeardson about whether a mechanical cockroach or spider would be a better inclusion with his lady-love’s pressie. She’s a geek and getting a Princess Leia beanie, with buns. Also on a happier note, Tex’s second youngest turned four and he’s nuts about Thunderbirds. So they made/hired costumes and the whole family plus some guests were in Thunderbirds uniforms, down to the 1 year old.. The photos have to be seen to be believed.

  81. Heh heh heh.
    Brilliant. You’ll have to show us the slideshow next time you’re in town.
    Or do I mean sideshow?
    Tex does the Thunderbirds. You know he could pull that off as a musical at QPAC & Nblob would be first in line to buy the tickets.

    So what is the Grand Evil getting, Khan GB?

    Catty a Christmas Miracle:
    I have managed to make it to the post office with
    1. Your present
    2. Your address
    3. My glasses
    4. money. (shut up all of you it could happen to any moderately vague middle aged woman who leaves her wallet besides the itunes shop)
    Even better there was nobody in the queue so the very nice australia post lady got to chatting (I think she wanted your present) and she looked at the address & said ‘OMG I used to live in that street, for ages, but further down.’
    I thought about asking her if she ate your neighbour’s cat but that doesn’t sound very Xmassy & I wanted your present to get to you on schedule.
    Maybe next time.

    • Oh if she was younger I’d be right on it. Might put one aside for GE#2. Assuming there’ll be one. And we have more good news! Looks as though the bribe we scraped up for the tenant of D#2’s unit has worked and he’ll be out and D#1 moved in around the 16th Jan. She’ll have her own place and we’ll be empty nesters again (whee, no-pants Friday every day!)

  82. Who doesn’t love the Thunderbirds?

    Q, you should have said “OMG, you’re lucky you weren’t murdered!”.

  83. That occurred to me too but again, what if they were related to whoever went into the body bag?

    GB have they actually all been living with you all this time? I just thought you’d gone down there to act as a daily creche. Not as Grand Evil HQ.
    Good news that the tenant is moving out though. There’s nothing quite like having your own space.

    • Only D#1 (Jen) has been living with us and only for a few months. Bur D#2 & hubs have bought a unit in Croydon and that’s where Jen is moving to. We look after Grand Evil, her mother does architecty things and uses the cash for a place for her sister/investment for GE. Tis a tangled but mutually beneficial web.

      Jen is sad (semi-jokingly) because she’s living in her parent’s basement with a computer, tablet and two Play Stations. The stereotypical nerd. Maybe if she took down the Doctor Who stuff?

  84. No, the Doctor Who stuff is only the beginning. She’d have to stop wearing ironic t-shirts and drinking out of geek coffee cups, forsake pizza entirely and never again refer to herself by her gamer handle, Kawaii Katana.

    She might as well just accept that she’s a nerd. They’re so hot right now, anyway.

    Well, my crown fell out last night. That’ll be inconvenient and expensive to reseat, methinks. I put it under my pillow last night, hoping the Tooth Fairy might chip in a lazy $500 or so but she didn’t even bother to leave a “With Sympathy” card.

  85. Oh Noes MM, how very horrible.
    Why do these bloody things always fall out on a Thursday night rather than a Sunday night? And why is it always a few days before Xmas? Is the tooth fairy off duty while the elves are pulling double time, meaning that tooth glue fails the world over in the last fortnight of December.
    Remember last year the Bloke’s fell out on the Thursday night before Xmas break, & he was agitating about not getting in to see the dentist & how he couldn’t think straight with his tongue running over the peg, & then of course he went to the pub with his work mates & got so drunk he forgot the dentist had been merciful and booked him in for a 2pm appointment? So I had to ferry him out there because he was too pished to drive?
    I hope the dentist can fit you in.
    The Bloke’s was a very simple matter of clean, glue, cap, out of there.
    When mine fell off, of course, we went through the usual rigmarole of multiple shots of local before the dentist figured out that nothing in my nervous system is rigged up like they taught them in anatomy school. So I left, twitching, 90 minutes later, drooling like a pom at the cricket & both of us vowing that next time he’ll just pull the FKR out under general anaesthetic & shove it up the tooth fairy’s arse, pointy end upwards.

    GB how did I not realise that Jen had moved down there too?
    Either I haven’t been paying attention to your codes or else that was one of those things that I missed because of my loathing of FB.
    I’m glad she’s out of Ipswich, Cthulu has plans to demolish it, one hail-based smiting after another.

  86. I had forgotten the bloke. Poor bastard. I’ve spent enough money at that practice that I expect them to fit me in, it’ll be a matter of trying to work it around work. I hope! Fingers crossed.

    She’s much better out of Ippy. It was even unpleasantly hot here yesterday before the storm, their asphalt must have been molten. And their tempers foul.

  87. The Bloke is still muttering ‘Stupid hippy dentist. Stupid hippy glue,’ but neither does he remember to rinse his mouth out with bicarb after sweets or juice, and after my experience with that bloody crown, I’m as OCD about that as NTO is about peering through the fence slats.
    Spanner was de-crowned & had a fake tooth installed a week or so ago. His misery was deafening. (I call on Darth Bearduss to back me up with this)
    So I can’t say I’m looking forward to the inevitability of that, but perhaps having the fake tooth is a step up from wondering if the damned crown will fall out every time I swill a glass of carrot juice.

    Yes, the dentist waved his finger at me for buying the juice macerator & that, among other things (the grapefruit juice & soda water habit with dinner at night) was what he blamed for the glue failure.

    I watched Catalyst last night, an episode of Intelligent Design theory in regards to life & the universe, & the first thing that struck me as evidence against that was that if god gave us chocolate then intelligent design would be to ensure our teeth wouldn’t erode due to excessive indulgence in it.

    Bastard stupid deity.

  88. Well, I drink no juices or fizzy drinks whatsoever. Although I have been noted for my acid tongue …

    • boom-TISH

  89. Good point & only fair to acknowledge that I was born in the year of the Snake.
    My dentist said it’s all about pH. He rattled off a list of things that were bad for the glue but in my delirium after 90 minutes without effective anaesthesia I wasn’t in much of a state to store those factoids in the Long Life RAM section of my brain.
    Aside from which I’m pretty sure that things like chocolate & peanut brittle were on that list.
    Does the man not understand essential food groups FFS?

  90. Who cares? Any dentist I see I can only think of Steve Martin in “Little Shop of Horrors”. How do they manage to have private lives?

  91. MM, urrgh! I hate that “I can’t stop poking it with my tongue” feeling. And yep, you and the Bloke and even Q have my sympathy. Somewhere there’s a dentist deciding the colour of her new BMW based on things like this so close to Xmas.

    Not to be sexist but the dentists I saw at Teachers Union Health were mostly young and female and over the years – thanks to them – I’ve almost lost my fear of dentists. Maybe they train them better these days or they keep up with the latest techniques but pain was almost non-existent. The worst part was keeping my mouth open and that included a crown and extraction (poor old baby tooth, you served me well). Maybe I’m biased by the guy with mini-telescopes on his glasses who cleaned out the nerves without anaesthetic at all. Because he “likes to know when he gets to the live ones”. He bleeding found out all right.

    Today is a Grand Evil day and she’s having a nap – at her own request. Before that it was BEEDS! again. I’m putting in a link so you can see what I have to deal with. https://www.dropbox.com/s/l5crvwmyx2p1ixv/Beads%20PB.jpg?dl=0
    Must not weaken.

  92. I wouldn’t have thought she could get any cuter. I was wrong. One of these nap times you should get her an agent.

  93. She could have her own show. ‘here comes Honey Voo Doo.’

  94. Boom tish!

  95. I expected more applause. Doesn’t this blog have a laugh track for my gratification?

    • Maybe it could have ‘Like’ ‘Dislike’ and ‘Oh God the Horror’ buttons too? Q can teach her voodoo and I’ll handle lockpicking and basic explosives. My own little Supervillain (MM has one already of course)

      • I’ll teach her feminine wiles and poison making. I sorely want an “OGTH” button, now.

  96. And the nice things keep coming. It must be Xmas? Just had a DM on Twitter from a mysterious ex-student. I’ll repeat it since I have no idea who it is anyway:

    Merry Christmas! Also thanks for year 11 & 12 maths – finally enjoyed it. Useful too since my job now is modeling $1.6b NDIS WA rollout…

    I sometimes “clashed” with kids despite trying to be helpful (no really – I did) and often felt that I was pushing a large pile of poo up a very steep hill. When I ditched the classroom for the joys of system administration it was a great relief indeed. But every so often i run into someone who smiles and says thanks. Feels good.

  97. Mine look at me blankly and insist they’ve never seen me before.
    Which is odd as back in the day I was quite sure I’d made an impression.
    Clearly it’s one that they’ve worked hard to block out.
    Moar Therapy, Miss.

  98. GB, it’s heartwarming yet somehow odd to think you’ve made such a worthwhile impression. BTW, kindly email me your new address. I found a CD at the Hope Charity shop that informed me you must possess it. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.

    Q, I’m sure you’ve made an impression too. It probably only comes out to play during REM, though.

    • Thank you Madam (he said tredipatiously)

  99. Heh heh heh. There may be something in that.
    I was responsible for putting them down at nap time. I always got co-opted into that one because I could get the worst of the wrigglers down in record time. According to psychologists we don’t lay down a lot of memories in the years under 5 so it’s hardly surprising they look at me so blankly.
    I don’t recall my teachers from creche, other than a few hazy impressions of some lurid 60’s fashions, and being shouted at for being the worst of the wrigglers in the group at naptime.
    Funny how that circle turns.
    It must be gratifying, GB. The thing that boggles me is, how did she/he know who you are? Are you going to ask them who they are, or would that undermine the troll-nibbled fabric of social media?

    • That’s got me puzzled too. He (I think) followed me first and seemed to know then who I was. I’ll have to ask.

  100. I remember my creche teacher. Her name was Bronwyn. After that, I don’t remember any of my teachers’ names up until my grade 10 Maths teacher – and that was only because we had the same surname, and he had the most amazing bottom… I mean, beautiful blue eyes.

    GB, the GE is far too adorable. Quickly, get her a website and capitalise on all that cute.

    O.k, now here’s a fun question: The Teen came over for dinner last night. See if you can guess what she gave us all for Christmas? Go on, guess.

  101. I want to say “Nits again!” but V&D would be nice, too.

  102. Hmm, nits was my first guess too but I’m going to be optimistic and say Freddo Frogs.

  103. I’m going to consider how hard she’d have to work to surprise you & say ‘Scabies.’

  104. The Teen? WORK? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahah..hahhah.. hah.. hah… stop it Quokka, you’re killing me. It was Nits.

  105. Smurf. Have you tried Full Marks? It’s my go-to delouser.

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