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it bloody well POURS. If you'll allow me to use an amazingly abused cliché.

It's a well known fact to anyone who reads this blog that the past month hasn't been so rosey. Perhaps even the past few years. I like to try to look on the bright side when I can, because being gloomy doesn't seem to help much at all.

But sometimes, it's harder than others.

Mums been having some kinda serious health issues, which make everything in general more complicated. When she saw the specialist they found blood clots in her brain, part of what has been giving her speech and motor skills issues - I guess. She had to stay in Orange Base Hospital for a night or so when she went to the specialist because of the results.

Nan told me, she had what I like to call "the face of doom". It wasn't terribly comforting waiting for her to tell me, but though it was bad... it was better than I expected with that face.

Clearly someone thought I hadn't had enough trauma, because only a little while after I found this out, I went outside to feed the dogs... and found my Labrador dead by the dog house. She must have been there for hours. She was only four years old, I don't think she died of natural causes.

Mums been back to the local hospital a few times since, nothing as serious as the clots - meds problems, mostly. I still worry, though. She's afraid she might die.

I'm not terribly sure I blame her, despite the doctors reassurences. But I don't think she's going to die, not yet... something the universe seems determined to teach me is that we all do die, eventually, though. In the interim my knee seems to have taken a vacation on me, it sort of collapsed under me again while I was helping my aunt make my bed at Eugowra.

I also need a new sewing box.

http://siren.crowned-meadow.net/2009/03/18/when-it-rains/

arm sore and mouth numb. specialist. mri in 1 week and specialist. acting funny 3 months now.

Some things to look forward to......

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Slow down for three minutes to read this. It is so worth it. Touching words from the mouth of babes.
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, 'What does love mean?'

The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined See what you think:

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
And the bus is interrupted as a very last resort,
And the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, Then
the socket packet pocket has an error to report!

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
And the double-clicking icons put your window in the trash, And
your data is corrupted ‘cause the index doesn’t hash, Then your
situation’s hopeless, and your system’s gonna crash!

If the label on your cable on the gable at your house,
Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
But your packets want to tunnel to another protocol,
That’s repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall.

And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss, So
your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse,
Then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
‘Cause as sure as I’m a poet, the sucker’s gonna hang!

When the copy of your floppy’s getting sloppy on the disk,
And the microcode instructions cause unnecessary RISC,
Then you have to flash your memory and you’ll want to RAM your ROM,
Quickly turn off your computer and be sure to tell your mom!

been quiet here lately. my wordpress blogs blew up. going to the nerve specialist in 2 days about my arm

it's at least 40 degrees Celsius here in Aussieland. hot enough to cook a meal on the cement!

When the Lord was creating Vietnam veterans, he was
into His 6th day of overtime when an angel appeared.
"You're certainly doing a lot of fiddling around on
this one."

And God said, "Have you seen the specs on this order? 
A Nam vet has to be able to run 5 miles through the
bush with a full pack on, endure with barely any sleep
for days, enter tunnels his higher ups wouldn't
consider doing, and keep his weapons clean and operable.
He has to be able to sit in his hole all night during
an attack, hold his buddies as they die, walk point in
unfamiliar territory known to be VC infested, and
somehow keep his senses alert for danger. He has to be
in top physical condition, existing on c-rats and very
little rest. And he has to have 6 pairs of hands."

The angel shook his head slowly and said,
  "6 pair of hands .... no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems ...  
it's the 3 pair of eyes a Nam vet has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. The
Lord nodded.  "One pair that sees through elephant
grass, another pair here in the side of his head for
his buddies, another pair here in front that can look
reassuringly at his bleeding, fellow soldier and say, 
"You'll make it....." when he knows he won't.

"Lord, rest, and work on this tomorrow." "I can't," 
said the Lord.  "I already have a model that can carry
a wounded soldier 1,000 yards during a firefight, calm
the fears of the latest FNG, and feed a family of 4 on
a grunt's paycheck." The angel walked around the model
and said, "Can it think?" "You bet," said the Lord.  
"It can quote much of the UCMJ, recite all his general
orders, and engage in a search and destroy mission in
less time than it takes for his fellow Americans back
home to discuss the morality of the War, and still keep
his sense of humor." "This Nam vet also has a phenomenal
personal control.  He can deal with ambushes from hell,
comfort a fallen soldier's family, and then read in his
hometown paper how Nam vets are baby killers, psychos,
addicts, killers of innocent civilians." The Lord gazed
into the future and said, "He will also endure being
vilified and spit on when he returns home, rejected
and crucified by the very ones he fought for."

Finally, the angel slowly ran his finger across the
vet's cheek, and said, "There's a leak ... I told you
that you were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the Lord. "That's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel. "It's for
bottled up emotions, for holding fallen soldiers as
they die, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth
called the American flag, for the terror of living with
PTSD for decades after the war, alone with it's demons,
with no one to care or help."

"You're a genius," said the angel, casting a gaze at the
tear. The Lord looked very somber, as if seeing down
eternity's distant shores..." 

 I didn't put it there," He said.

Author Unknown

Christmas was uck as usual - Robyn control freaked all day. at least I had beer to drink! apart from the control freak it was pretty good I guess.
Lily and Steffi had a great time opening all their presents and stuff. Lunch at Beck's was good too.

you know I always find this time of year hard - stress factor alone blows me off the wall - but since dad died in July 2005 it has been soooo much harder. I miss him so much and wish he was still here with us all and stuff.