Ongoing

I went to visit my Harley yesterday to see how the repairs are going. It is almost back together again; just waiting on the fuel tank paint job, and the front brakes re-installed.

Robbie pulled it out of the line of bikes so I could have a go at pulling the clutch in, which I did, with difficulty, but I did succeed. Maybe I will be able to ride again.

I have decided to make closing the clutch in when the bike is back home my daily exercise!

I was chatting with a friend yesterday and telling her of the absolute exhilaration I get from riding my bike, and how closing the clutch in was such an achievement. She said, "You've got to get back on, Robyn!"

I will try. I don't know how I will feel being so exposed to injury again, but then I could get hit by a bus crossing the road. Indeed, driving back from dropping my man off at work this morning, I met the huge school bus coming round the steep winding roads we live on, and nearly had a 'confrontation'. Our corners are so tight that a large vehicle that doesn't bend in the middle can be a huge danger. I only remembered that the bus would be on its way 30 seconds before I met it, so was prepared to pull over in a hurry. It stopped, and I stopped, then we negotiated our way safely past each other.

Many residents report similar close calls, and we mumble about petitioning to get it downgraded to a smaller, safer vehicle, but never quite get around to doing it.

But, back to my original point, I could be hit by a bus!

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I have an MRI on my wrecked knee tomorrow morning, which will be an interesting experience. My physiotherapist tells me it should only take about 20 minutes for a knee, so it shouldn't be too difficult. We are invited to bring our own music CDs to block out the apparently loud noises, so some Handel arias and similarly calming pieces will go too.

Always wanting to know more, I looked up MRI on Wikipedia. Bypassing all the technical blurb on how it works, I discovered it operated on a giant magnet, which could rattle any metal implants in your body. I don't know how it will affect my plate in my wrist, but they know I have that. My rings won't come off, so I should ring them today to see what to do about that. Further on in Wikipedia, I discovered a link to a You Tube that showed what effect the magnet had on a large oxygen bottle which was put on the table and run into the tunnel. It sucked the thing in with a crash, then banged it around like crazy.

Scary stuff! I might leave my oxygen bottle at home.........

I find that a great part of the information I have was acquired by looking up something and finding something else on the way.
... Franklin P. Adams

'I'll Show You How'

Watercolour, pencil on 300 gsm Arches paper
15 X 10cm

Giant Crocodiles and Lost Pleasures

Saturday on my own saw me travel down to town to see 'Rogue' (Jaws revisited!). This movie had good reviews, and there's nothing like a good monster movie to get the blood pumping, in more ways than one.........

Our local cinema is terrific, with four small theatres, which are often nearly empty when a movie run is almost over. Saturday afternoon was no exception. I bought my ticket, and watched with trepidation a group of eight giggling teenagers who loudly proclaimed they were seeing the croc movie too. I nearly cashed in my ticket to go and see 'Elizabeth' with Cate Blanchett, but hoped they might quieten down watching the show.

They all filed in, girls and boys of maybe twelve to fourteen, chattering like budgerigars coming in to roost. My heart sank, and I kept telling myself I could still leave if necessary. The movie started and feet were up on the back of chairs and noise level wasn't dropping, so I put on my best teacher voice and asked them to keep it down; that we needed quiet to enjoy this type of movie. You can't do suspense with giggles.

They did try, some more than others, and every time the noise level rose, I would lean forward in my seat to look at them, and it would drop again. Fortunately there was a father and son sitting a couple of rows in front of me, and though he didn't turn around, his presence added authority.


The monster croc did his stuff; people got crunched, and the hero fought his last battle and won, saving the heroine who had been impossibly mauled. Enough to well and truly kill her! Great female lead, and other excellent Aussie stars. The huge croc was terrific, and the money spent on him was a good investment. But it was just another Jaws movie in beautiful Northern Territory scenery.

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My man came home yesterday from his weekend away on his Harley. The dogs heard him from miles away and were looking down the driveway waiting for him to appear. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he came roaring round the corner and up the driveway, just as I put the poodles into the house to open the gate. He rumbled past me with his thumb up in greeting, and I felt a surge of grief that I probably wouldn't feel that extreme exhilaration again.

We used to make our last ten kilometres the best part of our ride, racing hard up the tight windies, me in front and him hot on my tail. Goodness knows what might have happened if a cow had been out on the road. There would have been no stopping.

We would roar up the driveway as he had just done, and along the veranda to the back of the house, the two Harley exhausts super loud under the iron roof. I would stop and get off and he would rev his bike up to make the rafters ring. Then we would Hi-Five in absolute joy. There is nothing that can possibly replace that adrenalin rush.

Later, after he had unpacked his saddlebags, I threw my leg over and lifted the bike off it's stand. I wanted to know whether I might be able to squeeze the clutch in. But, no, there was no hope ....... only pain. Early days yet, and my clutch has been operated on to make it softer, but it doesn't look good.

I was really gloomy after that. Maybe no riding ever again...............

"We have no right to ask when sorrow comes, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way."
... Author Unknown

A New Day Dawns

....

It was a full moon last night, and as I watched it rising majestically into the evening sky, I reflected on how it can send people a little nuts at times.

I put the television on and discovered that it looked like Australia was about to usher in a new Prime Minister; a Labor one. Out with the old and in with the new.

It has been a difficult decision, deciding how to vote, but we had to get rid of John Howard. Although he has done some very credible things for the country, at times he has also shown himself to be pretty ruthless and dishonest as well.

Kevin Rudd seems a bit soft for the job, but he doesn't want Nuclear Power Stations, seems serious about Climate Change, and will abolish the appalling Work Choices legislation that has distressed so many. Hopefully he will also block the ghastly pulp mill in beautiful Tasmania passed by the Libs just before the election that has so many people up in arms.

Eleven and a half years of power has left JH arrogant and irritable, and so determined to have a huge surplus he forgot to care for those taxpayers voting for him and paying his wages.

Enough said, dear Kevin was piffling on in his acceptance speech and I turned him off, so now there's three years to look forward to with the remote in hand changing channels each time he talks.

Small price to pay for a fresh start!

We look forward to the time when the Power of Love will replace the Love of Power. Then will our world know the blessings of peace.
... William Ewart Gladstone

Retail Therapy

With my man hooning off up the highway to the annual Bombala Motorcycle Show and Shine, and me too broken to ride, I told him I was going to do 'retail therapy' and buy a worm farm. "Go for it!" he said, as he always does, never denying me anything. So I did.

I had a funeral to attend first for a lovely friend whose mother had died on Tuesday (at 94!). We 'don't do funerals' as my man states firmly, but she's a special lady, and it was also conducted by a celebrant I knew.

I was the first to arrive and sat on a couch watching people come in, noticing a tall man immaculate in a kilt, with his thick calves encased in knee high white socks. The old mum who had passed on hailed from Scotland originally, and had come out to Australia as a 'Ten Pound Pom', so I hoped this handsome man might play the bagpipes. He did, halfway through the service, and it was very haunting and emotional.

The celebrant did a great job, and, apart from the granddaughter having a sob through part of the service, it was a gentle celebration of her life..... as it should be. I sat quietly on my own, in the sun coming through the window, listening to the music Maggie had chosen, and watching a small jumping spider wandering towards me on the window sill. Great little spiders. I love them. They are the most entertaining creatures, appearing very inquisitive and can jump great distances. I resisted the impulse to poke at him, just watched him checking out the world. I recalled the documentaries where the spiders are magnified to a huge size, and pictured his many eyes, his busy little mouth, and all those legs working together, high at the front and low at back.

There was a clipped green hedge bordering green shrubbery through the glass at my elbow, so it was really pleasant with the music, the recounting of her life.

Leaving the funeral parlor, I kissed my stressed friend as she took off to the crematorium for a private send-off, and escaped. Sitting alone, politely eating sandwiches and having a cuppa until she returned was not on my agenda. She had all those relatives to attend to.

Off to Bunnings, where I picked up a few veggie seedlings, a gorgeous port wine ivy geranium, a tub carry-all, and my worm farm. I had spotted the carry-all on an ad on TV.... just the end of it, so I just had a rough image of what it was. With the limitations my weakened arm causes, to have something to carry mulch, wood, and anything else awkward in really appealed to me. The lady at the checkout says her old dad uses it to bring in his shopping! Wow! So will I......

So, back home, I planted my seedlings and other treasures, put my purchased ten kilo bag of spuds in my new carry-all (I love it!), and unpacked my worm farm.

I bought 500 worms, which was a bit stingy of me...... they say we need 1000, but who is in a hurry? The instructions are very clear, and here is the process.....

Set up the legs into the solid base and tap for the 'worm pee'. You dilute that with water and fertilise your plants. Then place a level with drainage holes on top and line it with the packing cardboard.

Soak the provided block of 'coir' in 3/4 bucket of water and break it up until all is absorbed.

Spread it over the cardboard packing from the outside of the worm farm pack.

Put your bag of purchased wormies in, spreading over the wet coir. Don't use worms from the garden; they must be compost worms, not earth worms, and would apparently die in normal earthy/drier situations. They need moist, composty conditions.

Cover with wet newspaper and kiss them all 'goodnight'!

Lid on, job's done!

Let them feed and breed, and as they expand, put more of the three provided levels on top one by one, and offer food on that next layer. the worms will crawl up to that to feed. When nearly all worms vacate the bottom one, that goes on your garden. Simple!

No onions, or citrus, they don't like that, or offer some neutralising fire ash to improve the balance .....

"Man cannot make a worm, yet he will make gods by the dozen"

...Michel De Montaigne

A Vase Full

There's nothing like fresh roses everyday. This is the first year my rose bushes have been big enough to just keep producing, and producing......

Scribble Scribble, fiddle fiddle..........

'Dream On'
15 X 11cm
Watercolour and pencils on paper