Mice of a Different Sort...

Another picture-letter from my Grandma - after having been slack about blogging for a few weeks, aren't I glad I thought of doing this?

By the way we now seem to have approximately no mouse problem in our house anymore. No terrible smells either. I fully recant my lack of support for my Beloved's Mouse Elimination Strategy. It worked.

Can you guess what this is?

Uncle John's fish pond leaked, so he bought two (male) white mice.

They love the tread-mill, sometimes both get on it together, and spin it so fast you can't see their legs, the wheel goes - "Squeak, squeak". We hear it at night going fast.

The round marg. container has two holes cut in it and they play in it. In the daytime they sleep in the little house John made of cardboard, but they like the floor so much they have eaten it.

Their names and 'Tom' and 'Gerry'. John helped me draw them.

How big a round of applause does 'Uncle' John deserve for helping his Mum draw mice for his nephews and neices?

... A great big one!

And what was the chance I'd end my post there?

... Approximately None!

What a Lovely Cool House

Yesterday we had a perfectly beautiful day. I was down to my shirt-sleeves in the afternoon and the sky was cloudless and breeze caressing. Spring is coming - whether this is a little reminder that it's on its way or whether its the real thing matters not, so long as I took the time to enjoy it. And I did take some time to enjoy it (while I attacked a pile of washing up - did you not see my post from yesterday?!)

This is the time of year we begin to enjoy our house, because throughout the spring and summer it is a lovely cool house. Breezy and fresh, whatever direction the breeze is coming from - and although there are a few days when I turn on the air-conditioning it's not the house's fault that the temperature is just plain ridiculous that day.

The reason that we remember to enjoy our lovely cool house is that during the winter "lovely" and "cool" are not the terms we use to describe it. "Frigid" and "arctic" would be closer to the mark. I can't count the number of days when I leave the house and can take a jumper off upon going outside, if the sun is brightly shining. The house holds the cold well, and I'm too scungy to put on the heating in the mornings.

But then, what stimulus would there be to enjoy it in summer if the winters weren't so cold?

... Approximately None.

I Need a Mum... or Maybe Not

Of course, I already have a perfectly good Mum.

The problem is I need someone to come here and pick up after me, and my Mum wouldn't do that.

Or, well, she probably would if I was sick or dying, but when I'm in full health and just can't be bothered she probably wouldn't.

Actually, she certainly wouldn't.

...And even if she did it would come with a lecture and I could do without that.

But I really don't think she would do it, lecture or not.

So, maybe I need a maid.

But a maid would need to be paid, and I'm not certain the buget can stretch to that.

And I'd need to clean up first in order for him/her to clean, so it would be fairly pointless so far as labour-saving.

So I'm back to needing a Mum.

... Or to find some time today to make the house look a little less like I took a Girls' Brigade Parade Church Service on Sunday and made lots of props therefore have the remains of half a dozen crafty-type projects scattered about the house (plus the fact that the regular house cleaning didn't get done) and I have had lots of meetings since and don't want to start the huge effort of house cleaning.

Hopefully I will have some time today.

How much energy and enthusiasm do I have for this project?

... You guessed it!

And Now for Something Completely Different...

I've been a girl who has always gone to church. Initially I didn't have much choice in the matter, but eventually took on Christian faith for myself. One of the things that 35 years of church-going will do is that I know how all the stories end, and can get a bit blase about them. I also am used to some of the really odd things that Christians do at church. They are almost second nature.

I think the two of these tendencies combined resulted in the following mind wandering that happened just after Easter, but that I haven't got around to blogging about. Sorry for the in-jokes for those who don't attend a more main-stream church, or any church at all, for that matter.

Scene:
A fairly normal (if somewhat stodgy) service in my lovely home church. The reader was reading from Luke, Chapter 24, verse 36, following Jesus' resurrection, appearance and the disciples' return from Emmaus.

Reader: "Whle they were talking about this [Jesus' appearance on the road to a town called Emmaus], Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, 'Peace be with you'..."

Jen's somewhat wandering brain going into standard liturgy mode: "And the disciples responded, 'And also with you'..."

Reader continuing, thankfully in blissful ignorance of my mental journey to realms not recorded in the Bible: "...They [the disciples] were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost..."

Jen's brain, brought back suddenly to the actual reading, rather than standard liturgical responses: "Wow, I have been to church way too much, I wasn't expecting that. Didn't those disciples know the correct response?!"

The chance that the disciples, scared and not following the whole point of what Jesus had been trying to tell them about the fact that he would rise from death, even thought about using the standard liturgical response?

... Approximately None!

Another Letter from Grandma...

I'm aiming to include a couple of these a week when I have nothing to say for myself. I just thought I'd do a couple to get us up and started.
The chance that my whole blog will be filled with these?

...Hopefully...

... Approximately None

Uncle John is riding his bike to school.

He is just going up Thallon St, hall fence behind him, and Grandma is waving from the front door.

Thankyou for the picture of the horse. There are 2 horses in the yard beside the Church now. I'll have to draw them. (Why don't you like pussy cats???)

Love G'ma.

Letters from my Grandma

My Mum's Mum was a pretty special lady. When I was very tiny (like 2 years old) we moved to Barcaldine. This meant that we were way away from the wider family, and the phone wasn't then what it is now - it was something only really used for emergencies, or for a three minute "are you extending?" quick message. In fact, Mum has since said that there was a while we didn't have the phone on at the house - I guess they must have just relied on their mobiles!

Anyway, Grandma didn't want to lose contact with any of her grandkids, and so in the weekly carbon-copied typed letter to all her children who lived away she started to include a picture letter for the grandkids. Looking at them now, I see evidence of tracing and carbon being used, or she would send a post card or colouring-in page (at one time there were six of us receiving them - how did a minister's wife find time without a little bit of cheating?).

They lasted from whenever she started doing them, up until we moved to Brisbane and were able to be in personal contact again. Sometimes she would include a story (often on the back) so my Mum would write it out on the page beside where she stuck it down.

I'm very glad that my Mum had the forethought to stick them into an exercise book, so that I have almost all of them. I don't think any of my cousins still have theirs, and this becomes a good way to share the riches around. My books became more special in December 1985 when my Grandma died suddenly with bleeding in her brain.

In some ways when I read them it's almost like reading a prehistoric blog.

The chance that they wouldn't be among the things I would grab in the event of house fire?

... Approximately None!

I should perhaps mention that their house had a railway line across the back fence and whenever we visited it was exciting to watch the trains go past (I believe she actually memorised the timetable so that she could get us in the right place at the right time to see them). I'm presuming this is why Grandma would have sent a photo of a sheep train to her horse-mad grandaughter.

Why didn't I write a list?

Went for my annual inspection at the doctor’s yesterday, armed with my mental list of four things to ask about or for and then get out as quickly as possible.

I was pretty impressed to have got a 2pm appointment, because that’s first after lunch, and they’re usually on time again.

One of the problems of living in regional Queensland is that doctors don’t like to stay here. At least we have doctors (after all some towns can't keep one at all), but the strong pull of Brisbane keeps them moving through, so if you go to the doc once a year you’re unlikely to get the same one twice. And sometimes you simply hope that they speak English better than I can get my mouth around their name. The principal of the practice is great and has been here for years, but you need to book about three weeks in advance to see him.

I like yesterday’s doctor - he seemed a gentle and polite soul – but I am hoping that one comment was the sort of dumb mistake that I’d make, not that he actually meant to say what he said.

On my list of things to ask the doctor I had to check that the antibiotic that the oral surgeon uses is okay, given that there’s two families of antibiotics to which I have a demonstrated reaction. The third thing on my list was to get repeat scripts for my asthma medication.

Then I made the mistake of mentioning a forth thing (should have made a real, rather than mental list). I was going to ask about vaccinations for our family trip to Malaysia next year. I had made a mental note not to ask about my allergies, because they aren’t too bad at the moment and some doctors tend to get fixed ideas about things like allergies and I wanted to eliminate food possibilities to my satisfaction first before they start poking and prodding about.

But in the heat of the moment I couldn't remember vaccinations and all I could think of was itchy spots, and so mentioned them. And the doctor asked me if I have any problem with allergies, any asthma or hayfever?...

…Hello?... I’ve just asked you about my allergies to antibiotics and you’ve just printed out a script for asthma medication. I think I might have a few problems with allergies, don’t you?

I dutifully mentioned my recent problems with itchy eyes and blocked nose, hoping that it was just a typical example sentence that he always uses and that he did remember the asthma and antibiotic issues.

So now I have to have blood tests. Of course, that’s enough to turn me against pretty much any doctor.

Doctors just don’t understand the facts that :-

1) I really hate needles. Ever since I was tiny. I can’t even watch them on TV. I would never contemplate a tattoo. I hate them to the point that if we had kids I’d be conning either my Beloved or my Mum to take them in for injections because I wouldn’t be able to be calm enough to do it; and

2) I HAVE NO VEINS. Particularly not in winter. I don’t. I tell you this is true. On one occasion it took four different nurses at the pathologist to be confident to have a go. Another time they saw what they thought could be a vein and hit the nerve whereupon I passed out.

The other thing is that the doctor wants to check all the usual subjects (including glucose) so it has to be fasting, which means early morning. Early mornings are the coldest part of the day, resulting in even fewer discernable veins. And not having had breaky, I’m not keen on a jog around the block to try to get the blood pumping.

The other thing is I need to find a day I don’t have to do anything in the morning, and when I can con someone into driving me down (and more importantly BACK again). I tend to go into shock with blood tests, even to passing out - so I can’t trust myself to drive home.

And so the doctor just wants a blood test. The chance that I appreciate the “just” part of that?

… Approximately None.

They just don’t get it.