Mindful of Q’s reception and iIssues, I thought it best to start a new thread. OK, let the chattering commence.
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Mindful of Q’s reception and iIssues, I thought it best to start a new thread. OK, let the chattering commence.
Fun in a box 
We have just been to look at a house in the Basin. After this reminder about reception, I am now kicking myself for not checking the number of bars on my iPhone.
Where’s the Basin? Was it any good?
Isn’t a basin something that fills up with water?
Thanks, MM.
Reception has been appalling these last few days. I admit to negligence as I haven’t even bothered taking the modem out of its bubble wrap. We just have so much to do while we are down here setting up, that I don’t want the aggravation of the inevitable Hellstra smurf ups.
I’m trying to set up the 1/2 a kitchen to be campsite functional, and we are trying to fit up shelves in one closet (Bunnings & Howard’s) & a thousand other little things.
I’m trying not to blow a gasket from all the backtracking involved in The Bloke’s Absent Minded Professor routine, which makes about 5x as much work than if I was going it alone.
He didn’t give the dog a water bowl last night, (needs one beside his bed as he is night blind) so in his quest for water at 3am the cats threw him down the stairs. He seems ok today but tomorrow he will feel it, so that’ll be a vet trip for some shots.
I prefer the screw ups where I can make him Fix It.
Like arriving here & discovering that the bar fridge was switched off & all the perishables had perished. He blamed the painters, but it’s the kind of thing that he would do & there was no reason for the painters to be in that room.
I was anticipating that but I really thought he’d ruin the frozen food. He keeps leaving the freezer ajar so he has a history of Freezer Related offences.
One thing is certain, I won’t be expending energy making him any pies or lasagnes for frozen lunch stockpiles before we go. He can bloody well eat sandwiches & leftover bits of BBQ until my new kitchen shows up.
Still , it’s so beautiful here, & so amazing to be able to sleep thru the night without being woken by the bellowing & thumping of The Freaks, so I just grit my teeth & push thru the irritation.
I have birds & bunnies & crickets at night in stead of all the drunken urban jungle creatures.
So much better. 🙂
Now to face the Brisbane weather – urge. It’ll be 34C which day?
Gross!
http://www.realestate.com.au/property-house-vic-the+basin-120909221
The Basin is in the Dandenong Ranges. It’s not as far up the hill as Olinda or Ferny Creek, but there’s still some lovely views. I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s got some fabulous features, including a ramshackle little greenhouse, and a gully that runs beside the property. The front yard is longer than you can see from the photos. There’s a flat area closer to the road where you could park a boat or a caravan, and there’s the double garage and double carport out the back so there’s plenty of parking for when teenagers get their own cars. The house itself is sturdy and has no major defects. The surrounding vegetation is lush and green while everything at the base of the Ranges is dry and brown, but the gully ensures that the house would never turn into a swamp during the rainy season.
It also has a few drawbacks, but most of them are only drawbacks because I’ve gotten used to having features that the Basin house doesn’t have… i.e, it only has one toilet. If we bought the house, it would be a year or two before we could afford to have a second one installed. Also, the roof is not designed for insulation, and we wouldn’t be able to install central heating or cooling. So summer heatwaves would be pretty nasty, and midwinter would be worse.
The Boss and the Kidlets would move there tomorrow if they could. Me? Well, I’m not sure if it’s The One. The house we wanted to buy last year was perfect in every way except for the access road, which was a narrow gravel goat track on the side of a cliff. Otherwise it was everything we could possibly want and we were all madly in love with it. This Basin house isn’t perfect, not by a long shot, and to be honest although I like it a lot, I just don’t love it.
OMG Catty, don’t do it. Now that I can see the photos, that roof looks very low, judging by the water tank. You’d have to trash the entire house to get a new roof with insulation on it.
Wait for one that has high ceilings, insulation & good air flow.
I love the stone in the lounge room – and there’s a pool room! But lack of air con would be a major bummer.
I reckon when you find the right one, you’ll know.
No insulation? forget it. we spent two years in a house with a flat roof with no insulation & I thought it would kill me. The new Casa Coastal Q has double insulation in the roof, as well as in the walls, being 5 years old – and there’s the double thickness layers of the walls so that helps with noise & temps. It’s incredibly good with the temperatures. I would take insulation over AC, because at least you can install AC down the track. That silver foil roofing insulation is way better than bats, I think. For Brisbane summers, anyway.
I say wait, Catty.
Yii. Lookit the time. We have just got back to Brisbane & it’s time to go to QPAC. The Bloke’s Xmas present. A lovely idea, if we weren’t in the thick of the house move.
Like I said – Absent minded professor. TBH I would rather be asleep, and may well be, before the second act.
Is this Heathers, or Le Miz?
I hope you enjoy it – and manage to stay awake.
Sleeping is o.k, as long as you don’t snore. That’s why I don’t go to the theatre.
It was Heathers, and I fell asleep almost immediately. We left in the intermission because I was so tired & achey that I longed for death (mine preferably, but someone else’s at that point would have been equally satisfying).
So I couldn’t tell you how it was. Shrill & disturbing to seated slumber, if I was forced to write a review.
The Bloke said it wasn’t very good & the high point of my night was realising that I’d lost my glasses, and retrieving them from the cavity in front of my seat in a timely fashion. Today would have been a nightmare of vision-impaired packing chaos, without them.
I’d left my one pair of comfortable dressy walking shoes down at the coast, so I got cranky trawling around SB afterwards looking for food – thankfully there is always somewhere you can get half-cooked greasy fries with frozen bits still chewable in their centres, so at least I didn’t go without dinner as well as lunch.
Does that sum up my day for you?
Snoring is ok – what I hate is waking up in a puddle of drool. My own, I mean.
Check that.
Done.
My huge, ugly feet don’t allow for anything even remotely dressy. Thank goodness for boots! And thank goodness you found your glasses. If the theatre are anything like the university, they will expect the blood of your ancestors before they allow you to claim your specs at lost property.
My idea of dressy shoes is a trip to the Podiatry shop, Catty, so they’re not that dressy. They’re what shoe fans would call the Geek of Shoes. But they are acceptable for old lady dress up, and if I wear a long enough skirt, nobody sees my feet, anyway.
And Yep. I needed those glasses today when I felt the itch start up on the right side of my scalp & I needed to comb through it for nits. Which I probably wouldn’t have found, without those glasses.
Just what I needed, the week before we move house. A day of washing freaking everything, because, Nits. I cancelled my hair appointment, because you can never get rid of nits with less than two treatments, and those poor girls do not deserve another dose of West End’s super-powered head lice.
if only I’d listened to my gut & given the damned show tickets away. Stupid 80s hair styles – next time I go to a show at QPAC it will be one that doesn’t involve audience dress up with over-sized scrunchies & so much dramatic pony tail tossing.
When Aliens-3 the musical premieres, I will be there with bells on. For the midday matinee, at any rate.
Meh.
What was I meant to be doing, before the Great Nit Removal process began?
Oh yeah, packing. I’ve lost a day. Great. Good thing I’ve booked the pre-packers, because a day of my time is easily two hours of theirs.
There’s a lot to be said for hats. Tell you what, next time you have tickets to a show, I’ll send you some Impulse spray. Within 10 minutes on your skin, it will smell like you’ve been Mortein bombed and nobody will come near enough to you for you to catch even the most athletic of nits.
I factored pre-packers into our moving cost projections. It’s a large expense, because we have a lot of crap. They’ll probably charge more when they realise they’re going to have to buy wheelbarrows and shovels just to get into the bedrooms, and there’ll be at least one packer who will sue us for PTSD after a day or two in my walk-in wardrobe.
Oh, dear. You had to say “nits” *scratch*. Now all I can do is scratch *scratch*. Is there time for a combing before work? *scratch*
Actually the woman in the chemist said that if nits like your hair, then hairspray is a wonderful deterrent. It certainly works for me, the minute I smell the crap I head in the opposite direction.
Dunno if I believe that, though. I’m pretty sure the nits jumped out of the teased up head of hair on the teen to my right at QPAC, and there was enough shellac in that hair to send the entire row up in flames if someone dropped a cinder in it.
If I used hairspray, I’d look like the Bride of Frankenstein.
More than I do usually, I mean.
Perhaps you should L’Oreal it up for your Old Girls’ BBQ.
Oh, don’t remind me. What a vile waste of a Sunday. I’d rather be baconing!
I used to treat the kidlets’ hair with a spritz of vinegar each morning. It didn’t stop the nits because The Gimmee was a nit factory, but it did halve the number of infestations. I.e, only every second day.
It must be an astrology thing, seeing as she & I share a birthday. The little bastards love my hair. The chemist said it’s because it’s clean, as due to the swimming, I wash it every day.
Oh well. South bank on school holidays. The Bloke was surly about having to do his hair as ‘But I’m not itchy!’ but since he’s the one that works with a bunch of overstressed time-poor parents, he’s Prime Suspect number 2 as to being the source of them. I’m counting my blessings that my skin reacts to everything so at least I know when I’m being bitten, as I come up straight away in nasty little lumps.
I get that too! I call it Nit Rash. It comes up all over my neck, arms and chest within minutes of first contact, but takes a week to go away after the second treatment. Stupid nits.
I make it a firm policy to treat the entire household. It’s better for one’s peace of mind.
It’s a good idea, but I must admit I don’t bother with a follow-up treatment for any kidlet that isn’t infested.
*scratch*
Let’s change the subject. Anything but infestations would be good.
*scratch*
* Scratchetty Scratch*
Has anyone else been unreasonably sad about losing David Bowie?
Normally I despise the practice of mourning celebrities, but when I saw that pop up in my twitter feed I felt utterly dismal.
I’ve dreamed about him two nights running & I feel like I lost a friend.
I loved his work & I was at the Serious Moonlight Concert in November of 1983 with a bunch of friends.
I guess that artists like Bowie was just such an integral part of my leaving school & finding my own identity, that it’s forever caught up with a happy period of my life that I equate to Fleeing the Family Cage.
I remember watching Cat People with the Romance of the Time & I even wound up with Natassja’s silly short hair cut, because my hairdresser thought I had the Cat People look. It was even worse on me than it was on her, so much so that people kept thinking I was a 35 yro woman. Thank Dog that my hair grows so fast that it was long again, 18 months later.
But yes. It’s very sad & I can’t work out why.
Part of my Yoof, I guess.
Some journo said that it’s because Bowie was a role model for anyone who was searching for self because he pushed the boundaries.
It was nice to see him end up looking so comfortable in his own skin, when that search was done.
Vale, Mr. Bowie.
You were a treasure, and you will be missed.
Yes, I was completely stricken. Partly because I hadn’t realised he was so sick, I guess. It really was a bolt from the blue.
His career spanned the generations, but he knew when to stop. The Gimmee and I were both smitten with his Goblin King in Labyrinth, and I still remember my utter delight when I found an album recorded when he was just 19 years old. It had the original release of Space Oddity on it. Also, a delightful little tune called ‘When I’m Five’ that has been playing in my head for days.
Au revoir, Mr Bowie.
I’ve never seen these or the Princess Bride.
When we get settled at Casa Caramallo, and I get the apple TV working, I plan to sloth on the couch & not move for a week. I’ll have to do a Bowie marathon as part of my house moving recovery plan.
Well, shit … this is clearly where the action is. Maybe it’s where it has been all along. Since you left Facebook baby, it just ain’t been the same.
January .. less than a month into the new year yet it already feels like it’s been going forever. That’s not a good omen is it?
Anyway, hope you are all well.
Melbo!!! Good to see you here, sweetie. Come in, sit down (No, not there, that spot is covered in Wildebeest hair), and have a Valium/Vodka slushie.
Don’t forget the tramadol sprinkles on top. The cats have been neglecting to visit their customary levels of spiteful violence on the dog so he doesn’t need it.
Mel! Great to see you!
Welcome back to Bloggersville!
You’re just in time to watch me have hysterics over the move to the gold coast (truck is due Monday) & Catty have hysterics over two days worth of food deprivation followed by an anal probe, and Morgana…well, it’s the last week of the school holidays next week, that’s got to be time for the ‘When the hell do the gates open I can’t take this much longer’ type hysterics.
Then again when aren’t we having hysterics around here.
Situation normal, carry on.
Mel, I think you’re on my blog roll – I’d love for you to visit.
There are cat photos, lots and lots and lots of them.
And I’m hoping to be much, much saner, after the move out of Brisneyland and away from all the nocturnal Freaks that have kept me in a perpetual state of crankified insomnia these last 20 years.
Mwah.
https://quokkat888.wordpress.com
Melbo! Now our coven is complete.
I know what you mean. 11 days off and I already feel like I was never away from work. And Gigantor just turned 15, so life in general is flying by. Are your boys keen for back to school?
Personally,I’m not looking forward to lunchboxes again, so you can put me down for lunchbox hysterics thanks.
I want to hear the gruesome tale of what drove you away from Friendface.
I assume the Old Girls’ Committee found you & they’d like you to donate a kidney to the new science wing?
I’m pretty sure it was Rupert Murdoch and Jerry Hall’s engagement announcement.
I don’t know why everyone’s so bothered by it. I have every confidence she’ll kill him.
‘have another viagra, dear, and one of these little blue pills with the bunny on it.’
I give him three weeks after the wedding till the aneurism.
There are pills with bunnies on them? Cool! Where can I get some?
Behind the West End Library, and in the carpark at the local night owl.
It’s terribly inconvenient, if NTO hadn’t scared off the BMW driving drug dealer from Bog Hollow2, I’d be able to walk two doors down to get them for you.
Ah, memories.
Three more sleeps, and I’m headed to a suburb where they go over their garden lawns with tweezers to pull out the weeds.
Serenity, now…erm, Soon.
Don’t forget the skate ramp, and behind the shelter sheds.
So you’re moving on Monday? Cool. How are the boxes?
Daunting.
It will all be worth it. Hang in there!
Save time and frustration. Pack the Bloke in one of the cartons now.
Make sure you leave plenty of airholes, a few meat pies and a water dripper.
If you leave the box on NTO’s deck, you won’t even need the water dripper.
LOL. Nice one, Catty.
I was sorely tempted to pack myself in a box, yesterday.
Getting there, slowly, and the knowledge that I’ve got pre-packers to ease the pain (literally, as I feel like I’ve been run over by a council bus) is wonderfully soothing.
Poor love. It’s not fun. If I weren’t so far away, I’d be there helping.
Moral support works wonders.
Although not as much as Drugzzzz….I think I need valium gassed in through the AC. Call the Mexican Pharmacist & tell him it’s an emergency, would you?
At least you won’t have to do it again for a very long time. If ever.
Yeah, I dunno about that. Stairs, mutant feet, arthritis – I won’t last forever on that hill. Unless I can have both my feet amputated & I can get about in Professor Xavier’s hover chair. I’m hoping for 10 years in the next house, but we’ll see.
One thing is certain, I will get be getting rid of some crap before the next move, that’s for sure. What the hell possessed me to think I needed a closet full of patchworking crap?
Meh. Oh well, I might get into it when I’ve got more serene surrounds. It was never really terribly relaxing, doing it here. Too many noises to make me jumpy & twitchy.
We just looked at a couple more houses. The only thing missing on the first house was the ‘condemned’ sign on the front door. The agent was giving people warnings not to stand on certain parts of the floor, and a couple of the prospective buyers had to scurry away after touching weatherboards which promptly collapsed. We didn’t bother to make an offer.
The second house looked beautiful from the front. It had an impressively large lounge room with a view of the national park across the road, and new carpeting throughout. But it has obviously been severely storm damaged, and the owners haven’t finished the renovations. When the Boss saw water marks down the walls over some of the fresh paintwork, he decided there wasn’t much point making an offer. This house was listed as cheaper than the first one, and there were at least 50 people (and a few freaks) at the OFI, so it’s fair to assume at least one of them will be clueless enough to offer well over the asking price. Here’s a link so you can have a squiz too:
http://www.realestate.com.au/property-house-vic-upper+ferntree+gully-121644874
Lovely setting. Shame about the internal water features.
Oh, and Q – patchwork?! We’ll hear no more dissing of scrapbooking from you, young lady. They are stablemates.
Stablemates? Is that why I always want to snuggle up in a quilt when I’m a little hoarse?
Boom tish!
Catty will be here all week, folks. It’s a stable booking.
Stabled creatures get oats & hay, which is more than poor Catty is getting.
Well, we are in. I had way more crap than I thought so they were here till after 11pm unloading & the hill made it a hell job for them.
Bed at 1.30pm, meaning I was awake for 23 hours straight thanks to drunks & helicopters.
Such a blissful 4 hours of sleep after that , though. Just the wind in the trees & the birds. It’s heavenly.
🙂 hopefully I’ll get the modem working soon as my latest discovery is that nobody’s blog loads if the AC is switched on. Which it is, because there’s a burn off in the forest & I am about to have a lovely long nap.
Huzzah!
I don’t think we’ve been incompatible with climate control, before. That’s a new one.
Just as long as milk doesn’t turn sour when we’re about. If that happens, well, they’ll be burning more than the forest.
Oh, dear. Not villagers with flaming torches and pitchforks AGAIN?
The only sure things in this life are death, taxes, and enraged mobs.
Twitter won’t load here in my Net-free zone. So the enraged mobs can’t find me.
I’ve had no net & no news since Sunday & aside from missing you guys & not being able to google the ikea catalogue, it’s all rather in-inflaming.
Listening to the crickets have hysterics as the kookaburras swoop in for their next meal is about as stressful as it gets, here.
I can’t believe how tranquil & soothing it is here, I keep waiting for shrieks, bellows, bangs, thumps & the continuous jack-in-the box sounds of NTO slamming her screen door as she bounces in & out of her lair.
Words can’t describe how good it is to sleep thru the entire night without being woken by helicopters & bellowing drunken freaks.
Hallelujah, we are out of there.
I used to live in a flat across from the shunting yards on Sturt Street in Townsville. When I moved away, I missed the sound of the trains crashing together. Fortunately, I’d moved to North Ward, so the sound of crashing trains was replaced with the sound of crashing drunk drivers.
You still don’t have interwebz, Q? What’s Terriblestra’s problem now?
Faulty modem so no signal going thru. Sparky just left after checking it all & said that the T-gateway they supplied is a POS & they always have problems, especially up here on our hill as they don’t seem to work well with Velocity.
Bastards.
On advice, we bought out own modem. Saves those annoying drop-outs. Want me to find out what ours is?
Ours is a Belkin, bought on the advice of a salesman who said that he had a lot of people coming in to replace Telstra modems. I don’t know if it’s a particularly good brand, but it hasn’t given us any trouble – which is more than can be said of the old Telstra one.
Yes, that was our experience too. I think ours might be an Asus.
The one that Telstra gave me was an anus.
Arseholes Inc, model FU-UP.
That would be the same company that trains their customer service staff.
Oh yes. The stories I could tell, if only I had the Internet & a keyboard to clatter away at 80wpm on my Why I hate Telstra rant.
Sparky will be back next week & Hellstra tech on 1 Feb.
One of them should fix it, you’d hope.
How can it possibly be your wiring? Typical Telstra blame-shifting, I suspect.
My brother was a maintenance and installation tech for Telstra, many years ago. He seemed to spend a lot of his time sleeping off hangovers in the store room, and crashing company cars. And he was one of the good techies. I don’t think things have changed much.
Yeah they are idiots, all round.
The Sparky thinks he put the cable in the smallest bedroom – currently piled high with the contents of the removal truck – but the locals tell me that setup issues with Telstra are The Norm.
So, how is the back to school fun?
We were trying to work out if today is a pupil free day.
May the Force be with you as you wrestle them out the door.
It is a pupil-free day. However, it is not a deadbeat-free day. So my Mum will be braving the uniform shop for a last-minute stock up while I laze in air-conditioned comfort. Good old Mum.
Mine go back on Thursday. I’m taking them to KMart today for shoes, stationery, lunch boxes, and for some bizarre reason, a boiler suit.
Is that on the school book list, Catty? Are they planning on training them up as mechanics, or sending them down the sewers, or something?
Work experience as Telstra customer service reps & techs, perhaps.
Do the boiler suits tell you when they’re still soft centred & well done?
I feel like I’m wearing a boiler suit. So muggy!
It is on the book list. I also checked the book list for bunnies – there weren’t any, thank goodness.
Any other clues? Spades, mops, socket set ….
Protective glasses, ear plugs…
If there’s Vicks on the list it’s because they’ll need to stick globs of it under their nostrils to block out the scent of putrification.
Which means it’s either CSI, or a visit to parliament.
I would have LOVED to go to CSI school! But don’t they wear those plasticky, billowy no-trace-evidence ones?
I don’t know. That kind of specialist knowledge is reserved for people who have access to the Internet.
* sniff
Oh well, I suppose i should be unpacking boxes & creating order in our lives, not running google searches on murder scene fashion wear, & watching Netflix.
can’t complain, tho.
I have glorious solitude & serenity on my hill & had a lane to myself at the Pool this am. That would never happen in Brisbane.
How’d the back to school shuffle go?
Any purple spots yet?
The Boss used to wear those at work. He called them Sperm Suits.
Hehehe.
Hang on a minute – how can you have Netflix with no internet?
TGP hasn’t reported purple spots yet, but I think I see some. I might have to go home for a lie down.
I’ve got nothing, unless I am under the clothesline flapping my arms like a demented chicken.
The Bloke & I have been cursing John Howard for killing the long weekend, as it’s not possible to get a trade to do any damned work. The CFMEU give them from Friday lunch till Wednesday off.
The ones that were meant to
The private operators that were meant to be here this week have spent 5 days on the piss with their unionised labour mates so they are all disinclined to return to work on a Wednesday. They will be back at work next week, apparently.
The idiot that did show up today forgot to bring the locks he was meant to install so he had to drive back to Southport to retrieve them.
The Bloke has similar tales to tell of reduced productivity.
I’m sitting here fuming & hoping fervently that all of John Howard’s toilets block up & that there’s nobody sober enough to fix it till next Tuesday.
Well, I do hope they come tomorrow. Don’t take purple spots as an excuse!
Judging from the number of cops setting up RBT yesterday at 6am I would think a good number of the local tradies are home watching Foxtel citing ‘suspended licence’
That happened to … let’s call him Johnno. A mate’s cunning solution? Put on an apprentice who has his Ps.
Ps… I assume after the Straya Day revelry, you mean ‘Experience with Poodles?’
After Australia Day, I mean pisshead.
Bloody pissheads. How long does it take for them to sober up after Straya Day?
The cabinet maker, Telstra tech & the Sparky now reckon they are all coming on monday.
I’ve told Telstra & the Sparky I won’t be home till after midday, so that my morning meet & measure here with the cabinet maker shouldn’t be interrupted by those clowns.
With any luck the sparky & Telstra will be here at the same time so they can have a shouting match over which of them is to blame that there is still no internet here.
At least the cats have settled in now, I got back from the train/beach at 7.30am today & neithercat bothered getting up to demand I account for my absence.
The dog is still in a state of bliss.
We walk on the esplanade for 20 minutes & then do 20 minutes of Obedience practice on the beach. He has never been good at Come when Called on the beach so we are doing lots of schmacko inspired practice.
I keep his lead on otherwise he’d end up in Canada, & every day we increase distance, wait times & proximity of distractions. (Old ladies who smell like bacon saying Cute Doggy! Want a cuddle?)
Today on his 3rd last treat, he tripped on his leash at the starting point, turned 3 somersaults in the sand, recovered, flounced, & relaunched at a frenzied pace to get his treat.
It was hilarious, retirees stopped to hold their sides laughing at the twit. He really is a very cute little dog & it’s so good to see him bouncing with delight. I am so glad we moved while he is still agile enough to enjoy it. Everyone is shocked when I tell them he is 15.
He deserves this life after 2 years of having to watch him like a hawk because of NTOs animal poisoning habits.
Glad you’re still all having fun. Any sign of the supercell storm down your way, yet?
We’ve had a couple of storms. Both hit while I was driving down the highway. Of course.
Catty, have you got your biopsy results back yet?
What Madame said. Any news?
Drenching tropical rain here but no violent wind or hail. Lots of lightning, but we are rather high up & there’s a lot of gum trees for Thor to target.
I lost the Internet early in the piece, so I’m not sure what it looked like on the radar. A big yellow blob was the last I saw before I retreated to the den to watch DVDs & to snuggle miss Kitteh, who gets sooky in storms.
The media rooms up here are all designed like hitler’s bunker – my iPhone reverts to SOS mode in there.
Great for soundproofing, bad for social media.
How good is it to get rain?
Must be nice for you after all those fires, Catty.
What a lovely storm. But why is it still so humid?
Nearly threw a tanty last night when I got home from work, threw a load of clothes in the washer … and it refused to start. After some constructive hitting of the button panel, I resigned myself to a trip to Sunshine Coast Washers and Fridges.
Thought I’d give it one more go this morning and – voila! It’s working again. Perplexed but relieved.
My washing machine has reached the teenager stage in its life cycle. Stupid machine. When I am rich and famous, I am going to hire someone to do all my washing for me.
The appointment for biopsy results is in 3 weeks. Meanwhile, my undercarriage is still hurting a lot, and I’ve just this morning realised it may be the old ‘roids acting up. I dug around in the medicine chest until I found a tube of bum cream, but it expired 3 years ago. I wonder if it’s safe to use? Maybe when I can be fagged getting dressed I’ll give it a burl and see.
The rain down here not only drenched everything, it tamped down the smoke fog that Tasmania sent us. It was so odd. You could hardly smell that it was smoke. I was starting to think along the lines of ‘The Mist’. What DVD did you watch, Q? Nothing based on a Stephen King novel, I hope.
Smoke fog? Ugh!
Poor Catty, I’m not surprised your ‘Rhoids are flaring, after what you’ve been thru. Pony up for some new cream – it’s probably lost its punch. We had to study creams at Hogwarts & they do deteriorate over time. And as Madame said, best not to eat it.
:)🙀
This weather is glorious! ☔️
We are just chilling in the rain – I can’t see the point of stressing out on our down time. We’ll get the house in order eventually.
I brought a few box set series down over New Year, so we’ve been watching season 1 of small ville again.
This arvo it’s Meet The Fokkers.
We’ve got all the boxes stacked up into categories, so I know where the rest of my DVDs are. If the Internet doesn’t connect soon, I will have to dig thru them.
I do hope that come Monday night, I will have Apple TV & Netflix back on tap, though. I am missing my gourmet access to Sci Fi.
The temperature didn’t get above 29C here today. It’s hot if you go out in the sun, but I avoid Sun anyway.
Mudgeereba was much hotter, we went out to our fave cafe down there for breakfast this morning. It’s got that lovely quaint country town feel to it, which is balm to the spirit after so long in West End.
No junkies roaming the street eyeing you like they are leeches & you are lunch. A much more relaxed vibe. It’s a pensioner/hairy hill hippy hangout so there just isn’t enough wealth on display to attract druggies wanting to feed off it.
Fabulous to be away from that.
Ah, the serenity. I am incredibly relaxed & happy. This is awesome.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
If you were eating it, I’d be concerned. Since you’re just smearing it on your nethers, I’d give it a go.
More rain! This is a great weekend.
Check this out:
http://www.realestate.com.au/property-house-vic-belgrave-121721974
We went to look at it today, and fully intend to go back tomorrow for another look. The rooms are small, there’s only one living area, storage is scant, and I desperately want to move in there tomorrow. We will have to lose at least half, or possibly 3/4, of our possessions just to fit in there, but I don’t care. I am madly in love with it. It’s like your area, Q. Pensioners and hairy hill hippies. There’s even an ethical food restaurant on the corner of the street. I was channeling Darryl Kerrigan on the deck…. how’s the serenity?
That’s a really cute little house, Catty. I had some trouble loading it but it looks like a gorgeous spot.
Having just done the house move thing, I can testify that 3/4 of the stuff we moved is in fact useless crap & when I do have closets to store my crap in, I plan to have a massive cull.
We set up just the basics, here, and it’s an eye opener as to just how little you need to live comfortably.
Bring on the Closet Cull, you’ll be glad of it when it comes time to pack & move.
Wow, I love the deck. And the leadlights in the kitchen!
Would it be far to drive the kids to school, and how close is it to a chocolate shop?
Surprisingly close to chocolate, but about 3 times the distance from the school. We went and had another look today, and asked the REA if they’d had any offers. She said they had, and for substantially more than the listed price. We’ve crunched the numbers. Nope. Oh, well, we will keep looking. Rather frantically, actually. The Boss had a phone call from the WorkCover insurers, saying that it all ends in a couple of weeks. They’ve screwed up with the paperwork (yet again), and are basing their decision on the wrong information. This keeps happening, and it looks like this time they’re going to succeed in forcing the Boss off WorkCover. There’s nothing I can do, either, as they won’t talk to me. Lucky for them, as I’d be in there with the Ombudsman and a team of no-win no-fee lawyers. But the Boss is over it all, and has pretty much given up. Poor love.
Oh Catty, not again.
It sounds like a deliberate strategy to try to get you off their books.
I’d be in there giving someone a bollocking.
Hopefully he’ll get his second wind & will muster up the energy for that fight.
Yeah, give him a couple of Red Bulls and get those ambulance-chasers on the phone. That’s a lot of money to give up on.
He’s been through this same fight several times, and he just can’t face it again. Absolutely it’s deliberate. He’s had enough. I wish I could go in there and roll a few heads, but Privacy and Security laws won’t allow me in.
That’s mental, isn’t it? You’re allowed to bear his children, but not argue his case to Workcover. It’s because they prefer to pick on sick and injured people. They’re scared you might be too feisty.
I’d feist if they gave me half a chance. But I do understand his reluctance to play this stupid game again. It’s dispiriting.
Yeah, you can’t wear out a big organisation. When they burn a clerk out they can just replace him/her like a lightbulb.
Yep. They know that they can just unload you onto centrelink, and they can burn out their workers with their policy of refusing to recognise disabilities, by insisting he’s perfectly capable of hoisting 10 tonne trucks with his bare hands.
I hope you’ve pointed out that workcover are the lesser of those two evils, Catty, because Centrelink absolutely will not give up.
True dat. Nor will they accept you as a spokesmodel, even if he’s in hospital.
I think lifting 10 tonne things with his bare hands is what caused the problem in the first place.
Men. What are you going to do?
Gigantor got an itchy grub down his shirt at school. He realised in class, asked permission to go to the toilets to get rid of it – and the teacher said no!
So he walked out. I’m actually quite proud of him. As it was, he came home covered in welts.
Ouch. How on earth did he get that down there?
I have no idea, but if that was going to happen you could be sure it would happen to Gigantor.
I hope he took great care not to harm it & dropped it down her shirt, to add some itchy welts to his point.
Now he’s in trouble because his shoes aren’t all black, there’s a white logo on them.
Don’t you think they should be more concerned about underage sex and drug use, or the curriculum, or something?
I remember dramas with the Clark animal prints at high school – I think their justification was that they all have to be the same, or else there’s petty rivalry & having nice shoes encourages jealousy & shoe theft. If they’re bitching about it, it’s because allowing it sets them up for some sort of drama that they’d rather avoid.
Occasionally I overhear a conversation with the teacher next door (phone reception only under the clothesline, it’s hardly conducive to privacy) and I gather the rivalry between children is only surpassed by that between the parents. So when the special shoes with the logo go missing, and the He-said-she-said-my-child-is-an-angel-and-would-never-steal-shoes crap starts, the teachers have to sort it out.
It’s a long time since I had to deal with the parents of a kleptomaniac child and the outraged victims, but I can tell you, it makes you pretty antsy about ‘Well don’t bring the damned things to school unless you WANT the resident kleptomaniac to run off with them.’
That child would steal anything, and it didn’t have to be valuable. She just did it to shit people off, and so she could sit back and enjoy her little power games, watching her parents run to her defence, and her Frenemies freak out about WTF she would steal next.
The stink bug, I would think, is the teacher’s way of evening up a score…but the shoes…yeah. Psycho klepto kids and their deranged idiot parents.
Some parents acknowledge their child is a deranged thief who makes off with anything they can just for the fun of watching their victim suffer the loss of a prized possession/ essential piece of a board game/ lunch. I certainly did when The Gimmee made off with yet another thing that she really didn’t want or need. But I had the luxury of being part of that ‘weird religious cult’ that the locals wanted to avoid, so none of the parents ever approached me about it. (None of them ever once spoke to me at all, about anything). I just had to be diligent about monitoring what The Gimmee brought home, and hand whatever I found over to the teacher – with the exception of someone’s chicken wings, which The Gimmee had thoughtfully hidden under the driver’s seat of my car on a 40ºC day. I figured the poor, lunchless kid could do without getting those back.
I might just wrap his size 13 feet in duct tape and be done with it. Black, obviously.
What you need is clown shoes, smeared with a nice thick coat of black nugget.
Gack. I can’t imagine stealing a teenager’s shoes. Ugh, the smell!
It does explain the motivation to fling them over the power lines, though.
i.e. I’ll show you. Get your reeboks off there, kid.
Things could be worse, MM.
The Bloke said that his colleagues who have their kids at private school were whining that the kids won’t just wear school shoes – they have to have the RM Williams shoes, because of the social pressure to be cool.
At least your school is enforcing the generic shoe crackdown, and you don’t have to deal with that.
The Bloke just told me that those RM Williams shoes sell for $480 in the store & the kids just have to have them, otherwise they just don’t cut it in the Alpha Male Cool Class.
Marketing, eh? The Gruens keep saying it’s all geared to children & the nag factor.
Do RM’s even make shoes? I thought they were more Akubras and elastic-sided riding boots.
OK, I shall thank my lucky stars, then.
RM Williams boots became cool when John Howard wore them as PM. I am as surprised as you are.
Hehehe. I’m very surprised. I thought that would have made them reviled.
Not in the squeaking leather-filled halls of BBC.
Oh. So THAT’S why my ex used to wear them!
Your ex had one thing going for him. He went out with you, so he must have had good taste.
Oh, you’re adorbs.
Well, I’m fuming. TGP’s $1800 laptop has stopped working! He swears he didn’t do anything to it, and there are no signs of dropping or drowning. Should I take a pitchfork in to Harvey Norman when I waste my day off demanding satisfaction?
Yes. Yes you should. Bastards.
Yep. And remember to add a few bottles of metho & some matches to your bag, you might want to fire it up if they keep you waiting.
What product is it, MM, is this an Apple?
If so I’d make an appointment at the nearest genius bar as they may be able to reboot it.
Any luck?
Well, Harvey Norman have taken it in to be repaired – under warranty. But not without a struggle. The manager tried to tell me it would be quicker to drive it to Mooloolaba myself, rather than wait for them to deliver it to the repairers.
“Just ring this number and book it in”
(30 seconds later) “They’re not answering their phone.”
“Oh. I’ll try calling … No, they’re not answering. You could leave them a voicemail?”
“How about you just book it in and deliver it?”
In any case, he reckons it will take 2-3 weeks, so how time would be saved I can’t tell you. I think he was just hoping to avoid the mammoth task of booking the damn thing in.
Poor Madam. I’ve had so much bad service from that stupid place that I tend to avoid it unless there’s no alternative. Hopefully you will get your replacement before the end of term. It’s a big ask, though, as it’s only an 8 week term. Good luck!
We picked up Little Kidlet’s new school computer last night. They’ve misspelled his name on the label. He is infuriated. Also, the free laptop cases they provided are way too small. He spent 10 minutes forcing his computer into it, and the rest of us spent just as long trying to pull the bloody thing back out. But at least it works, and if it ever stops he can just take it to the IT office at the school so the techs can fix it.
Good grief. What’s he going to do for three weeks without a computer, do the school have loaners, or what?
He’ll just have to use his PC at home and look over someone’s shoulder, I suppose.
We used to have that system too, Catty. I would have much preferred it to getting the brush-off at HN.
Yeah, it’s expensive, but not as expensive as getting your own. Huh. When Kevin Rudd promised a computer for every child, I had no idea that it was the parents who were going to provide the bloody thing. Politicians suck.
20 fingers and toes for most children!
Jimmy has 20 toes. He mows a three acre paddock with the slasher. How many toes does he have left?
Well that depends on the wait time in the hospital admissions queue to get them stitched back on again. Does he have private health insurance?
Jimmy is a name more common to lower socio-economic sectors in the community. He is mowing a 3 acre paddock by hand, implying he is either a farmer, or a farmer’s employee or offspring, which solidifies the theory that Jimmy is from a fiscally restricted family. Extra toes are a condition that society most usually attributes to families without the funds to purchase more socially acceptable means of entertainment than porking one’s own sister. We can extrapolate from the text, then, that Jimmy does not have private health insurance. One could also extrapolate from the text a presumption that Jimmy would have difficulty getting to an A&E because he can’t walk on his bleeding stumps, and can’t get a lift because Pa took the ute into town to sell moonshine at the market.
Mmmmm… moonshine…
Bugger Jimmy, where can I get me some of that moonshine?
MIL brought back a bottle of it from their house, because FIL was drinking it straight. The Boss had given it to him so he could soak kumquats in it, a-la Bangarr, but FIL found that he quite liked the 94% proof straight. I sometimes wonder how that man is still alive. Anyway, moral of the story, the Boss took the bottle back over there and hid it in FIL’s shed, where MIL never goes because of the spiders. I wouldn’t go in there either, not after the spiders have had access to 94% proof moonshine.
Wouldn’t you spontaneously combust if you drank that?
Your liver should. I can only assume FIL’s liver is made of lead.
That would work. Or bakelite. Something not soluble in alcohol.
Titanium? No, that can corrode. Tungsten, maybe?
Glass would be insoluble, but according to Deborah Harry problematic.
Maybe you should call her?
I would, but she keeps me hanging on the telephone.
Lol!
I was playing around on the computer and just discovered that we are eligible for a Low Income Health Care Card, and have been for some weeks. I wish I’d known earlier, it would have helped enormously with the school fee situation. *sigh* Still, better late than never. I’m off now to pick up the claim forms.
Huzzah!
Show it everywhere. You can get all sorts of discounts.
Perhaps the school can make it retroactive, in view of your circumstances?
And yes, Huzzah! for the health care card.
That’s a good plan. Up there for thinking, Q.
If it’s a Catholic based school they are usually pretty supportive.
The WASPS will tear out your liver & throw it to the buzzards, but the Micks have a lot of bad press to make up for – and they tend to look after their own.
Worth a shot, from my experience of them.
It’s a public school, and this year they’re being forced to toe the government line re: curriculum reform. So textbooks have cost me a freaking fortune. It was almost as much as Uni textbooks.
I went to Centrelink and sat in that soulless, desolate hellhole for over an hour waiting to be seen. For reasons too depressing to outline, I ended up leaving without seeing anybody, and even if I had they wouldn’t have done anything to help me. Long story short, they don’t hand out forms. You have to email them a DNA sample and a screen shot of your soul so they will deign to speak to you online.
How the Boss will cope with lodging a claim for actual benefits is beyond me.
Yeah, dealing with Centrelink is all sorts of no fun. Brace yourselves. And ALWAYS ask for a receipt number, so if they try to tell you you haven’t sent a notarised photocopy of your soul (in triplicate), you can just smugly quote your receipt number.
After they assured me they don’t have forms any more, I did as advised and went to their website last night – where I found the form. I printed it out (all 28 pages) and filled it out. Scary. I’ve worked there, and I still had no idea what they were asking. The Boss and I are just about to drive down there so we can hand it in, and be told that we’ve filled it in wrong.
I wouldn’t worry. I doubt if they know if you’ve filled it in wrong.
Just check that the clerk didn’t work for Hellstra. Otherwise you might get the genius who spelt my griffith email address with Three Effs.
The extra eff is for FUBAR.
FUBAR – LOL!
Centrelink was fun. I told the WOD (wanker on duty) that I had questions. He listened to my first question and then told me (like I knew he would) that I had to take the hardest option – the one that involved filling in a whole new form and having the Boss’s WE (wanker employer) sign it. Fortunately, I had downloaded that form just in case, so when he was telling me I’d have to go home and print out my own copy because they don’t have forms at Centrelink any more, I produced the form with a flourish. He was not happy.
Next I gave him our birth certificates as POI, but he said neither of them was acceptable. Apparently he couldn’t read the serial number on mine, and he said the Boss’s wasn’t valid because it didn’t look like a birth certificate to him. I ignored him and asked another question about a different part of the form, which I was filling in there and then at the counter, and he said I’d have to go away, fill in the form, then bring it back for scanning because he had a whole bunch of other people to serve and I was holding up the queue. I ignored him again, and stood at the counter until I’d finished the whole fecking thing (possibly wrong, but he refused to answer my questions so I had to guess). I didn’t get WE to sign it, but I circumvented that by ticking a different box and having the Boss sign the form instead. At the counter. While the WOD fumed and made rude comments about all the customers who were waiting.
I wasn’t overly concerned by that point. As you said, Madam, they probably won’t know if it’s wrong. The WOD didn’t. On a positive note, he was so pissed off at me for taking up his precious time, he processed the birth certificates without any further argument. And apparently they’re now on file permanently, so at least we won’t have to go through that bullshit again if the Boss has to apply for DSP. Unless, of course, the WOD ‘accidentally’ drops all our supporting documentation in the nearest shredder, which is a distinct possibility. He was pretty upset. Heh heh heh heh….
When we got home, the Boss made me a barista coffee and handed me a scratchie he’d found in the car’s console while we were out. I scratched it. Woo hoo! $10!
So, I’ve pissed off a Centrelink WOD, had a great cup of coffee, and won $10. It’s a good day.
Wow. That is a good day. Now go and have a nap, you’ve earned it.
Yes! And then pancakes for dinner! This day just keeps getting better.
Oh, Mum’s making pancakes too. Reason to go on.
Well done, Catty. You have nerves of steel to get through all of that.
xxxxxxx
Now, have a pancake for me, each of you, because I’ve got sushi & I *had* a caramel kit kat, but it is, alas, gone.
I had pancakes for breakfast down at one of the beachfront cafes recently & they were awesome…fresh berry compote that was succulent & fresh & sweet – & vanilla bean ice-cream. Mine couldn’t begin to compare with those, so I’ll just fantasise about them until we next get down there.
I’ve been to the hairdresser – on recommendation from the Burleigh librarian, who had the funkiest goth hair with purple streaks – and it glowed with health & good care, unlike Malibu Barbie’s hair salon across the road.
So I have had my hair done & she’s gotten rid of the grey on my eyelashes & my eyebrows, so I’m calling this a good day, too.
Plus my new hairdresser is a book-lover, and she’s just a few years younger than me – so she’s a nice sensible middle aged matron with a teenage daughter, who sounds bookish and arty, as she is.
I’ll have to make the Burleigh librarian some rocky road when I get my kitchen, as thanks for the tip.
I was expecting distracted 20-somethings, and this was a pleasant surprise.
You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever heard of with grey brows and lashes, Q – or are the others just dyeing them on the quiet?
I spotted a grey hair in the Boss’s eyebrow recently. I’ve been teasing him unmercifully. I’m such a bitch. Heh heh heh heh…
Forget the grey hairs – what happened??!!
One thing that did happen, was that the specialist told me I was going to need iron transfusions and that my kidneys are only working at half speed. Wha…? He said I should already know that because of the scans I had done on 15th November. But I didn’t have any scans on 15th November! I pointed this out, and after some research it would seem the Boss’s cousin’s wife (who has a similar name to mine) is a very sick girl. I, as it turns out, only need iron supplements and have champion kidneys. This is a relief, as I’ll need good kidneys if I have to have chemo.
Huzzah for your kidneys!
Indeed.
You never know when you might want to piss someone off.
I told the in-laws about the test results mixup, and they told me it’s the Boss’s cousin, not a spouse. I had the family connection wrong. They wanted to know what her results said, because FIL’s brother hadn’t mentioned anything about his youngest being sick – but if she hasn’t even told her dad about it then I may have said too much already.
Whoops. Are you close, Catty? It might be worth giving her a call & apprising her of the mix-up. She might appreciate having a sister-in-arms in wrestling with the health system, too.
Well, you didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure she’ll eventually be grateful of the support.
I don’t know her. She’s had little contact with extended family since she discovered alcohol. Which is weird, because I would have thought the Boss’s family would be exactly the sort of people a drunk would want to hang out with.
They probably have different tribes. Or label allegiances.
Really? I didn’t think they were picky.
The Bloke never met a bottle that he didn’t like the look of.
I tried to find something he wouldn’t snavel, so that we could toast special occasions in the new house – New Year, new house, Escape From Toad Park, his BD, our anniversary – but he kept getting to my premixed cans & bottles before I could remember the need for them.
I had to go into the bottlo and ask her for something that my husband wouldn’t drink.
I left with a soft drink bottle of pineapple flavoured midori, confident he’d be put off by the fluorescent toxic waste type colour, but no.
‘My that looks good – what is it?’
perhaps I should get him a six-pack of that next time, instead of the Japanese beer that he likes…
What you need is something labelled “Big Girl’s Blouse’. Or “Wimp Water’.
You might find one here:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/robinedds/funny-beer-names-you-dont-have-to-be-drunk-to-enjoy#.uhN75pe3ml
Sheepshagger might do the trick.
The only drinks that he views with disdain are the ADHD drinks, the red bull & such.
The one he gripes about most bitterly is called ‘Mother’.
Very Freudian.
Decant your beverage of choice into Mother bottles?
There was an article about those drinks in the paper. They said that teenage boys doing VCE were collapsing during exams because they’d knocked back an energy drink shot after swotting all night and failed to hydrate properly. They also said that long term use can lead to heart disease. I’ve always felt those drinks were stupid, because they encourage quick-fixes as opposed to living a healthy lifestyle*
Yes, we all know that my idea of a healthy lifestyle is CAEK and a nap.
Mmm … CAEK and nap.
I approve of this choice.
Speaking of baked goods, I pulled out my frozen snickerdoodle dough & I made cookies in the De Longhi multi-fry. I’d done it once before & they were overdone – this time I figured it out & they came out perfect.
The Bloke was exceedingly pleased with them. And it was probably good timing, to remind him why he loves me.
I might have to experiment with making little cakes, if this no kitchen business carries on for much longer. There’s an extra inch or two loose in the girth of my pants, now that I’ve had nearly a month here away from the steady temptations of West End.
That Swiss Deli…oh, how I miss it.
Mind, I’ll be back at uni in a couple of weeks for my Spanish class & the pastry cook there should compensate for the lack of access to baked treats here. It’s not that there isn’t anything between here & Burleigh to tempt me – it’s just that I usually have the Hound in tow when I’m down there, which makes it somewhat difficult to go into the shops. And I’m not that fussed on the take-away down here – they all seem to be really heavy handed with the salt. They must have to cater to the tastes of the tourarists…Perhaps they cook everything in sea water?
Not to worry.
The Bloke brought home the shop drawings of our kitchen for me to check over this weekend…exciting!
And meanwhile, if I can find my recipe, I might experiment with making scones on the BBQ. It does fabulous pizza, so I can’t see why it wouldn’t be just as good with scones.
MK made tiny little scones in her home ec class yesterday. We watched some ridiculous Adam Sandler movie last night while we crowded around the plate and loaded the teensy scones with way too much jam and cream. It was most enjoyable.
One of my co-workers has a used iPhone 5 for sale. What do you reckon, brains trust – should I upgrade?
Imo, the 5 is infinitely better than the 4, but other people prefer the 4 to the 5. I love my 5. But be warned, you will probably wind up addicted to Candy Crush.
I have the Bloke’s old iPhone 5, and I love it.
I think it’s a 5C.
I never got into Candy Crush, I play the Gem game on it & that’s bad enough.
I’m already addicted to CC on Facebook. It’s too late for me!
I thought you chucked fart book?
No, I’m still lurking in the background. Playing Candy Crush.
I used to get a dozen Facebook notifications a day from people who played Farmville, but nobody ever mentions it any more. Thank goodness.
Maybe there’s a digi-drought? No, then there would be a Farmville appeal.
I’m hoping they hold a Revolution Telethon to raise funds for tomatoes to throw at politicians. Then we can hold a telethon to raise funds for our fat-finding tour of America, seeing as the bloody government didn’t give us that grant we wanted – hence the need for tomatoes to throw at them.
Mmm … fat.
*Drool*
There’s a row of homeware shops at Robina that are having a closing down sale, to make way for a bank or some such to take over their space.
I found a really solid looking pfoffertjes tray in there that was marked down & I’m waiting till the last minute to see if it’s marked down even more.
Has anyone ever made them?
MIL makes them often. A couple of years ago, she bought an electric pfoffertjes cooker for $8 from Kmart. She prefers it to the tray, and there’s no difference in the taste or texture. The lady who makes them at the markets has changed to the electric cooker also.