A Letter From Grandma

In case you can't read Grandma's writing, this is what it says,

This is a funny story - Grandad was reading his paper and minding Peter,
and Peter climbed up on the end of the banana-bed. Grandad put his foot on
the top to stop it tipping up, then he had to put his other foot on the table to
stop him from tipping up, then he had to call for someone to grab
Peter.

How much do I care if this might be embarrassing to some of my 'lations?

P.S. Peter is my cousin. He is also now famous (well, maybe not internationally famous, but certainly around the regions wherer he's worked). I'm still claiming I have a famous cousin.

Dear Doctor...

I am writing to request transfer of my records to my local veterinary surgery on the following grounds:-

• I took my Little Black Dog to visit the vet today, and was actually in the car on my way home a whole minute BEFORE my appointment time.
• He didn't charge me for the consultation because it was just to check that things were healing properly (but when he charges me it's still cheaper despite not getting a Medicare refund).
• He must know his stuff, because he treats a number of different species of animals (and his patients can't explain what is wrong).

How legal would this be? *sigh*

Why?

There was a man.

Standing on the steep roof of an old Queenslander house.

With a green grocery bag in his hand.

The chance I had my camera with me as I drove into town?

The Dog in my Kitchen

There should not be a dog in my kitchen.

The Little Black Dog is not allowed to go in the kitchen.

He believes that he is not allowed to be CAUGHT in the kitchen.

There is a difference.

At the moment a three legged dog on timber floors has resulted in a few falls, which has made him worried about walking on the timber floors, which means that he then tried to run quickly, which meant that he stacked it faster, which meant that he wouldn't walk anywhere, which has resulted in me putting down every old towel we possess to give him traction and make doggy highways between his favourite resting places.

Now, though, he will go off the towels and not be able to turn around (the turning seems to increase the liklihood of falls). This has resulted in him getting himself stranded in the middle of the timber and making a huge fuss about being lifted back onto the towels. It is not easy if he gets himself stranded under the dining room table.

Why does he leave the towels in the first place? How does he get himself into the middle of nowhere, and why can't he get back?

But today I caught him in the kitchen. I ordered him out. He looked at me with the, "I'm a poor lame puppy who can't walk on the timber" look that he has perfected, lay down on the floor and went floppy. He's really difficult to pick up when he goes floppy. I carefully pushed all 19 kilos of him around the bench with my foot, handily mopping up some water I'd spilled when filling the ice-cube trays.

The chance that he's not bunging it on when it suits him?

I have proof that I'm co-ordinated!

Those who know me in real life will be very intrigued by the title. It might not seem consistent with what they know of me.

Anyone who's been following this blog for a bit may also be somewhat surprised by the title.

A couple of weeks ago I went to my first Zumba session. I loved it. I went again the next night!

My Beloved and I came to a budgetary agreement that for the next two months I'm allowed as much Zumba as I can get to, based on the fact there are only 4 sessions in the week here in town (unless I wanted to back to back a couple, and I think I'd probably die!) and that I have stuff on for one of the others (except in the school holidays).

So due to other commitments and illness I've managed to get to two sessions the first week, one the second, and I could only make it to one last week.

So as of Wednesday night I'd done all of 4 sessions. Some of it is getting easier.

Anyway the local high school had its annual Rodeo and showcase thing with rides and entertainment before the rodeo. The Zumba ladies had been asked to do a display, hopefully to get the crowd involved.

They were a little short on people to help demonstrate.

In fact they were desperate.

I know they were desperate, because they asked someone who has only done 4 sessions to come and help them.

They asked me.

I figure I was the large, unco-ordinated one that proved to the crowd that anyone can do this.

And I know I have a maniacal grin plastered on my face when I do Zumba firstly because it's fun and secondly because there's every chance I will entirely stuff it up. It's like a preemptive laugh at myself for being on the wrong foot or raising the wrong hand for at least a third of the proceedings.

But I couldn't help going for an additional session in my week (which was free!).

And the chance that all the newbie high school girls got it down better than me their first go?

(Well you'd hope not!)

2:15

AM.

Some advice:

When writing an assignment, if you have about another hour of work to do (so that it can be handed in tomorrow), DO NOT decide at 9.30pm that it's a good idea to entirely restructure it.

On the other hand, the chance it isn't much better now?

I really need better notes

When I'm writing assignments, I have to wade through pages and pages of notes I've taken while I've been reading in preparation.

It can be quite interesting, particularly when I started reading weeks ago, so the matter from the first few books is not fresh in my brain.

There are times when I've obviously been tired and unable to reduce a good quote to notes, so I've written out the whole paragraph.

There are times I've used obscure abbreviations and hieroglyphs for particular terms.

There are times when I've used particularly bad handwriting (even worse if it's in Greek script).

And there are times when I come across gems like this, "Big Julie refounded Corinth as a colony - 44BC"

How much money would you bet me that I haven't been exposed in childhood to quotes from "Rinse the Blood off my Toga"?

- Thanks Grandad.