Alien in a Foreign Field

Clues that's you're short-sighted and semi-senile

2012-04-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

After a long walk in the park with the dog.

Wife: "What's that?"
Husband: "What?"
"That thing on the floor."
"Where?"
"Just there. See?"
"Is it a coffee bean?"
"Yes."
"Or is it some kind of bug?"
"I think it's moving. It's got legs."
"Can't be a bean then, must be a bug."
"I've never seen an insect like that before. Have you?"
"Nope. Must be some kind of rare Californian thing."
"Give it freedom or death?"
"Do you think it bites?"
"It looks pretty harmless, big and fat and round. Eeow! You didn't have to squash it like that. Poor little insect. Is that blood?"
"Yuck, it must be a tick."
"Poor darned dog."

Ladies in Waiting

2010-02-21T23:06:00.000-08:00

I transfer the load to the drier and put the last batch on to dry before heading upstairs in the pitch black to restock the towels, when I hear him come home from work at the ungodly hour of 11:30.

I finish up swiftly and move on to matching socks as I hear him below go from garage to utility room and back again, several times, many times. After more than 20 minutes he’s still at it, so I nip down to check.

I step over the pile of soggy laundry and peer into the garage, lit by a yellow light. It’s been more than ten days after the event, but I see him watch it now, parked on the cement, in a very large cardboard box, hidden at the back. He looks at it, pensive.

I scurry back inside, skip over the laundry hampers into the kitchen and get busy, very busy, because time is running out. I’m poised and possibly ready, as I’ve been practicing in my head.

I bow over the sink and plunge my hands into the suds as he re-appears from the garage, wrench in one hand, screw-driver in the other.

“Maddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you know that there’s a big box in the garage?”
“Yes.”
“Does it really have a washing machine in it?”
“Yes, it does actually.”
“Do you mean we have a second washing machine sitting outside in the garage in a cardboard box?”
“Exactly so.”
“Um…..what is it doing there?”
“Waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Well it’s all a bit complicated really.”
“I have time.”
“Well…it happened last week.”
“What did?”
“There was this terrible smell of burning plastic in the utility room, so I rushed over there in case there was a fire and then I realized the washing machine had packed up.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, it was Monday and I’d just changed the sheets on all 6 beds so I had all this linen to wash and it was already full to busting with the second load…”
“You over-filled it?”
“Er… no…I mean…not really…I’m pretty sure…”
“Are you indeed. So you over-loaded the capacity?”
“Possibly.”
“So…?”
“Anyway, we decided…”
“We?”
“Tamsin and me.”
“Oh god.”
“No, no, no, it’s fine, we decided it would be best if she nipped out and found a replacement, whilst I looked after the children and Nonna. So much easier to make a decision with a clear head and no responsibilities or distractions…and it would save you the bother of having to sort it all out at the weekend.”
“You’re saying this was for my benefit?”
“Of course. You have enough to do already, one less chore…anyway, you were at work. I couldn’t wait five days until the weekend.”
“Hmm.”
“So she bought a new one and brought it home, parked it in the garage and we were going to cart it into the house later.”
“So what happened…later?”
“See that’s the funny thing.”
“Funny?”
“Yes, and I know you’re going to laugh at this… in the middle of the afternoon, just as I was making snacks for the children, wouldn’t you just know it, the darned thing sprang to life and went into the spin cycle…isn’t that extraordinary?”
“Back from the dead.”
“Exactly so!”
“And you didn’t return the new one back to the store because?”
“Because…it’s been clanking and groaning for months… it’s going to die any day now, I’m sure of it.”
“You’re quite sure?”
“Yes, certain.”
“Pity really.”
“What’s a pity?”
“That you didn’t buy a drier at the same time.”
“How so?”
“You were right about one thing.”
“Which thing?”
I watch him lay his tools on the counter, “the drier, it’s terminal.”

Goodwill to all Peoplekind

2009-12-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

I escape from the house in a hurry. Although generally I can find any excuse to avoid shopping, currently it’s a valid excuse for freedom. Now that Target provides groceries and prescription refills, I shall probably never need to shop anywhere else ever again. With luck on my side, I should be able to make a round trip in under an hour, long before Nonna awakens.

It’s a short list of necessaries, essentials, extras and maybe’s. I cast grumpiness aside, or is it fatigue – this must be the true definition of retail therapy; the chance to move about freely in a crowd, anonymous with a big cheesy grin plastered on my face. No questions, no demands, no repeats; it’s just like being in a spa:- a holiday for the mind.

I spend far too much money in far too short a time.

I step out towards the car, the final gallop to the finishing line. Always racing when I’m accosted by a large woman, with a loud voice and a bell – ‘spare some change for the missing children?’ I can feel a scowl cross my brow as I fight with the cart and it’s square wheel. Thwarted. Another interruption. I have no time to stand and stare, a white rabbit with a stop watch lashed to my ankle. My handbag is open in the baby seat shelf, my purse on the top, stuffed with receipts and lists, as I search for suitable lies:-

‘I’ve spent it all already,’ - but of course I used plastic.
‘I’ve already greased the palm of every Tom, Dick and Harry with an open hand this week,’ - but there’s always another one.
‘What do I care about missing children, the starving masses or the global warming?’ - but I can’t lie.
‘I’m too busy, too tired, too harassed to give a rat’s arse about anybody else for the moment,’ - would be the honest to goodness truth.

She is far too physically close, as she examines the contents of the cart – “I’ll take one of those milks instead if you like, or the bananas, a few of those rolls of bathroom tissue? Anything’l help.” I know my face is a sour pudding as I struggle with glasses, keys and life. What the heck. It’s only money. I’ve not had to slave for hours in an air-conditioned, soulless pod. I hand over the readies, into the black slot with the padlock and chain attached to the table leg – as if that’s a deterrent? “Thank you!” she beams with far too much enthusiasm than is warranted for such a bah humbug moment. “Give me some love with that,” she adds as I’m enfolded into her soft body with warm hands. I cannot remember when I was last hugged, properly, by an adult woman, let alone a stranger. I feel the surrender as I remember to breathe; it’s oddly comforting as I lay aside my English, ‘do not touch’ body language. “Now you sure have a Happy Holiday,” she insists as she releases me.
“I shall indeed, you too.”

11 + Cake Topper for Twins

2009-12-14T13:29:00.000-08:00

This is a ding bat design for some chums of mine who successfully passed the 11+ examination. The boys are twins and took the exam in the States which enables them to enter the Grammar School System back in England = an amazing feat!

I have no idea how often twins both manage to pass this test, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate with a dingbat on binary.

Interestingly it was all the thicky adults like me who had a hard time figuring out the message.

Who are you?

2009-11-20T15:23:00.000-08:00

Take the Quiz here!

A sporting chance

2009-11-09T09:19:00.000-08:00

Let me just say from the get go that I know nothing about sport, with the exception of Tiddly Winks, nor have I ever coached anyone to play any kind of sport, which is probably just as well.

That said, I would guess that being a coach is akin to being a teacher, but I’m happy to be corrected on that score. I have the opportunity to observe a coach working as we walk along the edge of the fence that surrounds the playing field, towards the dog park. Although we walk along a clearly delineated path, I have each boys’ hand in one of mine, just in case a squirrel or some other distraction might prove too much of a temptation - the traffic flow in the road is exceptionally busy.

Different groups play different games, some near a soccer goal, some near basket ball hoops others on the asphalt track. As we walk we see the coach, a tall middle aged man who sports a baseball cap, reversed, on his balding skull. He has a very loud voice which is probably an asset in an open field. People of diminished stature are in his care. I would guess that they spread over the age range of 5 to 7. They are all kitted out in similar attire which makes them easier to spot as a group.

There are lots of balls and lots of running and lots of shouting, although only the coach performs the vocals. There are lots of instructions. None of them make any sense, but of course they wouldn’t make any sense because we are ignorant of all sports, American and otherwise. The coach is displeased with his charges performance. Despite all his incomprehensible instructions, the children, individually, continue to flail about the field like headless chickens, but I suspect it’s a team sport. We can all tell that the coach is angry, not just because of his voice but because of his stance. He is very good at hand gestures too, exceptionally so - we all know that whatever it is that they’re supposed to be doing, they’re not doing it.

The coach’s cap comes off his head numerous times because he is exasperated - he copes by rubbing the skin raw on his pate. Each time he removes his cap his voice edges up a few marks on the Richter scale, but we’re none the wiser as to his message. For me, fear is a great motivator. It would appear that his team are similarly motivated albeit unsuccessfully. In a final burst of desperation he yells again, repeats a whole stream of instructions. One new small phrase, bubbles up amidst the torrent, “only move when the ball moves.” A current of comprehension courses through the collective – they are back on track.

What a pity he didn’t say that first.

Now, if anyone ever gives me a pointy ball to hold, I shall know exactly what to do, although I can’t imagine how to throw one through the netted hoop?

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - a movie review

2009-08-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

A long time ago I read "this" book by "F.Scott Fitzgerald." At that time, in my youth, I deemed it both ‘a bit soppy’ and ‘highly improbable,’ because I read it as a ‘story’ and not as a literary critic.

For "one" reason and "another" when the movie debuted I failed to connect the book to the film. I wanted to watch the film but there was a lot of "stuff" going on at the time. By happenstance, as is so often the case, my "daughter" borrowed a copy from the library, watched it and suggested that I do likewise. It was a nudge. I was reminded of "This Mom’s" project and thought……why not just make the time? The trouble was that I needed a lot of time because the movie is nearly three hours long. So I did what I always do, cut it up into manageable chunks.

If you have elderly relatives or young children or if you're middle aged or just human, it's well worth finding the time for this poignant drop of escapism.

I won't add a spoiler but I knew as soon as the backwards clock was revealed. There again, it could just be that the recall was prompted by my original reading.

Evensong – I’ll have the nutty version

2009-07-11T18:11:00.000-07:00

On Sunday Evening my jolly good neighbour hands me a plate of cookies with a warm and beaming smile. “And here’s a pack of diabetic cookies but they’re still frozen.” She has taken pity on me after enduring 30 minutes of my moaning about my catering woes. We chat about families, hers and mine, special diets and special needs. As she turns to leave she adds, “anyway, I have to get back now as I still have a bit of cooking to do.”
“Always cooking to do it seems.”
“Yes…….just enough time for divinity.” A string of words bounce up in a blue ribboned silk banner in my brain with gold lettering:- Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline but I cannot recall divinity?
“Divinity?”
“I’ll bring you some.”
“You will?”
“You probably won’t like it but the kids will.”
“!”
“Haven’t you ever had it before?”
“Never.”
“It’s just sugar , eggs and corn syrup, I’ll bring you the recipe next time too.”
“How delightful. "Thank you.”

Never trust a skinny cook*

2009-07-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

Just before four in the afternoon, I put away the last clean, dry plate and pause for a cup of coffee, black. A couple of hours ago everyone was full of barbeque, salads, bread and cake, which took the edge off the hunger pangs after breakfast of pancakes, in-between morning snacks and afternoon snacks.

Because I am so badly organized, I haven’t managed to squeeze in a trip to the supermarket as the prospect of dinner looms. Some time between now and 6 in the evening, I am doomed to hear those fateful words “what’s for supper?” Right on cue, my husband appears, “so how can I help with dinner?”
“Give me suggestions about what to cook?”
“Don’t we usually have left-overs on Sunday?”
“Yes……..but they’re aren’t any, left overs that is to say. In fact, come to think of it, I’m sick of the sight of food. My brain has died. I have no imagination. I can’t think of anything.”
“Ah…….so you’re in need of a little inspiration?”
“That or a cheap slave.”
“To eat or to help?”
“Quite frankly, I beginning to wonder how I’m ever going to keep up with all these permanently hungry people? It’s a complete nightmare. Either I’m shopping for food, cooking the food or cleaning up after the food.”
“Hmm….so ‘and Nonna makes 8’ is proving too much?”
“Not exactly. It’s just the sheer quantity. Everyone seems to have hollow legs. Just think of something……anything……..an idea?”
“Do you know I heard an interesting discussion on the radio about why women were such abject failures …….under-represented in public life.”
“!”
“I mean……too busy with domestic duties.”
“!”
“Sounds like a take out is in order.”
“Ooo you do have the very best ideas.”
“I do try. I expect Mileva Maric would have been a public figure if they had take out back in those days.”
“Who?”
“Oh……Mrs. Einstein.”

p.s. I actually have quite a few adults around here that help a great deal but I do martyrdom so well.

* "Nonna's" favourite phrase.

Wool Gathering

2009-07-04T03:28:00.000-07:00

I sit down for the first time at one in the morning on the small patch of dry carpet with my knitting and a glass of white wine when my bleary eyed husband walks in. He shouts over the din of the washer and drier playing catch up.
“Blimey. Am I married to a secret drinker?”
“Well that's certainly a plan.”
"Why are you wearing that old sun-dress?"
"It was the only thing I could find in the dark after my shower."
“Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“Because the rest of the carpet is still wet even though I’ve steamed cleaned it twice.”
“Ah. Do you want me to help you move the furniture back? It looks a bit odd piled in the corner.”
“Tomorrow when or if the carpet ever dries.”
“What’s that terrible stink?”
“Bleach in the bathroom, swiffer liquid throughout the kitchen and hall floors of his flight path and essence of vomit here and generally around the bazaars.”
“Ah. Why didn’t I hear any of this?”
“Probably because you passed out after you changed the last bed again upstairs.”
"Well they're fast asleep now. I'm sure they'll be fine by tomorrow, batteries fully re-charged again."
"Now there's a fact guaranteed to aid sleep."
"Happy 4th?”
“Cheers!”

Ivory Wedding Anniversay

2009-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

"Let me make this quite clear. I don't care how tired you all are I want everybody there, bright and early at breakfast for our gift exchange."
"Sure. Are you expecting a surprise?"
"I am expecting something duty free from the airport shop."
"Oh."
"However, he will be receiving a minor heart attack in a box."
"Really? What did you have in mind?"
"Something age appropriate for an old codger."
"Such as?"
"Meet Fred. I look positively youthful by comparison."
"Are you sure about that?"
"!"

Ware were you when I needed you?

2009-06-29T05:53:00.000-07:00

I talk to my pal on the phone as I am in need of a therapeutic moan.

“It’s just impossible. Rarer than hens teeth. I knew I should have bought them in England. Even after all these years, this country is completely infuriating. The most basic items are totally unavailable. How do people cope?”
“So……..what exactly is it that you’re lookin for now?”
“Sheets. Proper flat floral twin sheets. See! I even know to use the word ‘flat’ and the word ‘twin’ even though it’s really a single because I’m so completely acclimated now.”
“I recognize that catch in your voice, so you won’t get the sarcasm past me this time.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop sulkin why dontcha. We’ll figure this out. I’m sure just about all the high street stores will have them.”
“No. I don’t want to physically go anywhere. I need to do it on line.”
“Of course, wouldn’t like you to have to rub shoulders with the natives would you?”
“Don’t tease. I’m I a foul mood.”
“Like I didn’t notice? So. What’s the main issue?”
“When you look up floral sheeting the results show loads of sites for some weird stuff to decorate floats!”
“Hmm that makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Yeah. So what happens when you search on floral flat twin sheet?”
“You get ‘sets’ of bedding. I don’t want a set. I just want one single sheet, or maybe two.”
“Single or twin?”
“Two twins. Is that what I mean? Yes, I think it is. It’s all so confusing. I’m toying with Paisley. Do you have Paisley out here or do I have to translate that too?”
“Of course we have Paisley.”
“Anyway. I think I’ll just have to find a source of sheeting and make them up myself but it would be so much easier if I could just by ready made sheets instead.”
“So who’s into Paisley and florals?”
“No-one in particular. I may just have to admit defeat and get plain.”
“Plain?”
“Solid.”
“Ah.”
“But I can’t find anything wide enough. Everything seems to be 90 or 115?”
“What?”
“Oh……36 or 45. No use to man nor beast.”
“So how big is the bed?”
“Bed?”
“Yeah. How big is the…..mattress that want the sheets for?”
“I don’t want it for a bed.”
“But I thought…….what do you want the sheet for?”
“For the table. Now we’re 8 in the family we’ve had to drag out the big table top and I don’t have any table cloths big enough to cover it, so I thought I’d use sheets instead.”
“How big is the table?”
“In metric?”
“No imperial.”
“Er…..that would be about……84 inches or 2 yards and one foot by 5 foot or 60 inches…..ish.”
“!”
“Did you just snort? Did you snort on the phone?”
“Er…..I may have done….so how come yur not lookin in table where?”
“Table where?”
“Ware! Table WARE!”
“Because my table is too big for tableware table cloths.”
“Dya know, it just kills me to tell you this but 84 by 60 is pretty much standard for an American table.”
“!”
“What can I say……everything in America is bigger and……”

Tip of the day

Best way to avoid sun burn = garden in the moonlight and take advantage of your jet lag.

Enterprise allowance – child exploitation

2009-05-21T10:42:00.001-07:00

My daughter moans about lack of funding just as her big sister returns from pulling poison oak in Santa Cruz, dressed like a yetty for protection. I observe the girls in silence as I pot up seedlings which are technically weeds.
“Geez you look disgustin.”
“Disgusting but rich, which suits me just fine.”
“Rich?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“Howmucha got?”
“That’s for me to know.”
“Can I come with you next time?”
“You’ll be at school I’m afraid.”
“How can I get some money too?”
“Work.”
“Can I do some chores for money Mom?”
“You already do your chores to earn your pocket money….er……allowance. There isn’t really anything else that the budget can stretch to right now dear.”
“Maybe you could set up one of those American lemonade stands in the summer?” offers her big sister.
“I need money now. I can’t wait til the summer.”
“I don’t think they have paper rounds out here do they? How do children earn money do you suppose?”
“When she’s a bit older she can do baby sitting.”
“I hate babies.”
“Well that’s another career door slammed shut.”
“Maybe you could make something to sell? Friendship bracelets perhaps?”
“What are you doing mum?”
“I’m just making these little paper pots and plopping weeds in them. Mainly Morning Glories and Tomatoes. They seem to have seeded the entire garden. I really need to conquer the compost heap but I don’t want to just throw them away.”
“Geez I could sell em!”
“Er……I was going to give them away to my friends.”
“Friends suck. I’ll set em up at the end of the driveway. What’ll they cost? $10 bucks each?”
“In your dreams dearie. More like 25 cents if you’re lucky.”
“Really? Still if I sell four that’s a dollar.”
“Now hang on a minute. If you’re really going to do this then we should do it properly.”
“Properly? What’s properly?”
“First of all, you need to be making the pots, finding the seedlings and filling them.”
“I do?”
“Yes……unless you want to pay my wages for making them for you?”
“That sucks. How much do you charge?”
“I believe you said the going rate is ten bucks an hour?”
"Make that ten pounds Mum. Much better exchange "rate!"

Fantasy Fiesta after the siesta

2009-05-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

Or

The Rule of Three

It’s very simple and is as applicable to pottery as it is to cake decorations:- always make three and one might turn out o.k.

It’s stands to reason when you work with sugar, have three children and two diabetics in the house:- obviously one or more will be eaten prior to completion.

The second one will be damaged or broken beyond repair.

This leaves you with one and only one after many, many attempts.

Unless you’re extra lucky of course.

Yes I know! I also need help in the "how to use a camera properly" but that's for another "campaign."

I’d offer to send you the spares but I doubt if they travel well as evidenced by "cake wrecks."

Environmental Whore

2009-05-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

“Mum!”
“Yes dear?”
“Can you explain something to me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Why did I spend all day yesterday rigging up a washing line for you if you still insist on using the bloody tumble drier!”
“Well if you look outside you’ll see that it’s already full.”
“Full?”
“Yes……this is just a little overflow.”
"Ah.....you're so trying!"
"I shall endeavour to try harder."

But it's just a seasonal issue:

Artificial Christmas Tree

Giveaway at Balsam Hill

Now I wonder which is worse?

Buy a fake one that can be used again and again until I'm old and "grey?"

Go out to a Christmas tree farm and chop one down? That wouldn't be "popular."

Although the smell of real pine can be "enticing."

Probably best to take it to a "vote" although I expect we'll do the usual = cut off the top of the one in the "garden."

Gourmands of the world unite – rare bites

2009-05-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

Inspired by her little brother’s recent "cookery" efforts, my daughter decides that she too can be independent, creative and a culinary expert.

“D’ya think I could make a grilled cheese sandwich for myself?”
I look at my pre-teen, scissors poised mid sewing project, “by yourself?”
“Sure.”
“Fair enough, go ahead.”
“D’ya know where his cookery book has gone?”
“Yes he took it to therapy to show his therapist.”
“Ah…….so howamy gonna make a grilled cheese sandwich without the book?”
“How indeed?”
“D’ya know howta make one Mom?”
I think deep down in the repository of my culinary experiences over a period approximating forty plus years. “Actually……..I don’t think I have ever in my entire life made a grilled cheese sandwich. The nearest would probably be…..a rarebit or a cheese toastie……which are probably near enough.”
“A ‘toastie’ sounds nice but wotz rabbits gotta do with anything?
“Nevermind, you carry on dear. Knock your self out.”
“Er…..don’t say that mom……it sounds really weird the way your say it.”
“!”

Predictably I attend every step:- where’s the cheese, where’s the bread, can you cut the bread, where’s the knife………surely every parent does this as some stage or other? Every parent knows that the request for independence comes with a baggage of hands on , one on one, time consuming attention.

“D’ya have a pan?”
“What kind of a pan?”
“Er…..a grilling pan?”
“Don’t you just pop it under the grill?”
“Wotsa grill?”
“Oh…..a broiler……the broiler…..stick it under the broiler and……broil it.”
“Duh….then it would be a broiled cheese sandwich and I don’t like the sound of that one little bit.”
“Neither do I funnily enough….something is clearly lost in translation.”
“Wait til I tell everyone at school.”
“Tell everyone at school what? That you made your own sandwich all by yourself?”
“No…….that my mom can’t even cook a grilled cheese sandwich……that’s cookin 101 y’know.”
“!”

Cake Design for Foreigners

2009-04-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

In a previous life time I used to make cakes. Predominantly Devil's Food Cakes with Chocolate Ganache, decorated with sugarpaste [ rolled fondant], flower paste [that's sugar too] and pastillage. These were a 'few' of my first attempts.

Wheelbarrow and pumpkins

Christening cake

Knapsack for the world traveler

White Ice Church

Halloween pumpkin, fall leaves and scary ghostly skeleton

Rubber duckies and pond life

A peramulator

God Bless Her [not necessarily the Queen]

Three little monsters.

Rose petals and crib

Lacy crib

Lacy bootees for a boy or a girl, hands and feet motifs

Smocking box and bottees

Chocolate box cake topped with real truffles

Carousel

Easter basket, bunny and eggs

Ghosts

Going and away and packing boxes

Yes today I figured out how to use the scanner and scan in a few of my old photographs. I feel like I've finally conquered technology.

No you cannot send me to "Cake Wrecks" because I am not commercial!

But "life" has taken over in more ways than "one," although I wish I were a better "photographer."

Now I make "Pots."

Online grocery shopping – a comparative review

2009-02-19T10:30:00.000-08:00

If you think that shopping on-line is purely for the "slothful" you may probably be right. If on the other hand your family is subject to the occasional domestic disaster, then it may be something worth checking out. Just off the top of my head, I can easily think of half a dozen different scenarios where this service might be of use:-
Freezer death
Fridge death
Sudden illness, oneself or a family member, which results in house bound
Car death
Explosion of oven
Death of any other essential household appliance, such a toilet, whereby the owner occupier must remain in residence for a minimum period of 48 hours on the off chance that the plumber may honour us with a visit for a standard call out charge, 5 minute examination, departure on the promise to return with the month, not to exceed 31 days in any event, many harsh words regarding consumer mis-use, and the promise of further additional charges for parts, installation and tax, not to include clean up or removal and disposal of broken parts, nor the slightly battered and water logged Thomas the Tank Engine.

For many efficient people, any or all of the above would still leave them with a carefully organized store cupboard of ingredients to whip up a wholesome and nutritious meal for a family of "seven," and sometimes more.

Other less efficient people, may need to resort to on-line grocery shopping.

In my vast experience in these matters, it is far better to set up an order on-line prior to the disaster. A basic list of essentials can very quickly be drawn up, especially, if you’re not working on a Mac. If you are working on a Mac it is even more essential to set up the emergency shopping list in advance, to iron out any inevitable and frustrating kinks.

Make sure you save the voucher for free delivery on all orders over the minimum requirement. Orders that are delivered on the same day take the maximum hit in delivery charges, assuming that you can find an open window or convenient slot. If you are doubtful that you can hit the minimum charge ensure that you stock up on staples such as toilet rolls, laundry detergent and other non-perishables, preferably large, heavy ones as you need to exploit someone else’s muscle power to the maximum and reserve your own strength, so as to be better able to run your household efficiently and hand the plumber his tools.

Book mark the site or leave as a permanently open window so that other household members are able to hit the ‘order now’ button should you find that your fingers are inoperable due to a surfeit of wooden splinters from Thomas the Tank Engine. It is a good idea to include finely targeted bribes for each member of the family as an incentive to their co-operation in this endeavour. Most family members will be reluctant to hit the ‘order now’ button in the sure and certain knowledge that the result with be several hundred weight of healthy vegetables winging their way towards your door, but a packet of M&M’s here and there may just make the difference between success and failure to the enterprise.

It is handy to note that the pictures of the shopping items all appear to be the same size and there is no scale available for comparison. This means that a one and a half ounce individual fun size pack of M&Ms appears to be the same as a family pack for a herd of elephants. Most children salivate to such a degree that they are not mindful of the fine print.

A few details.

Our personal experience.

Customer service is great. If the delivery person turns up with half your order or half of someone else’s order, this is easily remedied by telephone where you get to speak to a real live human being who is also capable of making decisions. This works even if you only discover the error an hour later. We had no problem being credited for items that we were charged for but failed to materialize. They also offered to deliver the missing items later in the day for free. Make sure that you check each item off the print out to avoid hic-cups.

All of the different supermarkets are competitively priced but don’t forget to check the ‘specials.’ Since price is crucial in these financially crippling times, take care to double check the price per ounce to avoid expensive mistakes. Also be aware of the difference between buying some by quantity, i.e. one unit, and by weight, i.e. one pound, otherwise you may end up with ten ten pound bags of potatoes.

Take care over the ‘substitutes’ page. This is where you explain whether you are willing to accept alternatives for specific items. This is generally divided into substitute brands and substitute quantities. If you fail to complete this form then you may end up with something entirely unexpected.

The delivery personnel are friendly and personable and on time. I’m not sure on the etiquette but I believe it would be appropriate to tip the delivery guy, afterall they’re providing a service, although I have no idea what sum would be appropriate.

One last hidden benefit is that you're helping to keep your carbon footprint under raps as well as preventing impulse buying, as little pictures are not as tempting as the real thing. It also means, in theory at least, that at the check out, the trolly won't be filled with erroneous purchases by other more surreptitious members of the "family."

It's a dog eat dog world

2009-02-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

In response to the following query search, which brought a newcomer to my blog:-

“my goldfish ate one of my other goldfish on wednesday and still has part of it in his mouth on saturday will he choke?”

I can say with complete confidence, no, he won’t choke, but he is probably carnivorous so your other goldfish may be in danger. Is your tank large enough to accommodate one super sized goldfish? And by the by, how do you know that he’s male?

Other people’s reality

2009-02-04T10:12:00.001-08:00

Just after Christmas I flee to Target where there will be adult people with normal speech patterns for a few moments of respite and some other essential items. Once cats, teeth, chocolate and cleanliness supplies are under control, I also grab a plain black top for myself, on sale, probably not my size but at $5:00 I’ve no complaints.

At the check out, the checker is abuzz and abusy. She is young, fresh and full of bounce, so I feel all the more ancient, numb brained and deflated.
“Did ya have a nice holiday?”
“Oh yes very much so. And yourself?”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“?”
“Do you want your milk in a bag or not?”
“No thanks.”
“Er…….was that yes or no……to the bag?”
“Um……it was a no…..thanks.”
“I got the thanks I just couldn’t work out if it went with a yes or a no?”
“Ah. That constant bleeping must be very distracting for you.”
“Me? I’m right on top of things even after nearly an hour. Just tune it right out.”
“Oh good.” Maybe my diction has deteriorated?
“Do you always buy toothbrushes?”
“Er……sometimes.”
She hurls the sack of cat food into a bag even though it is already fitted with a handle.
“What’s your dog called?”
“Er…….that’s for the cats.”
“Can you just swipe your card?”
“I already have.”
“Can you just sign in the box?”
“But there’s no total, I don’t know how much I’m spending yet?”
She presses another button and the sum appears like magic on the screen.
“Do you like black?”
“Yes I do, it always matches.”
“I never eat black chocolate. Is it good?”
“Black? Er yes, it’s a birthday present.”
“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. Was it someone in your close family or just a friend that died?”
“Um…….a distant acquaintance.” Presumably, I can only guess.
“Always nice to buy new clothes though……even if it’s just for a funeral.”
“?”

Maybe I am already dead? Therapy session over. I can’t wait to get home.

How those digital recorders come in handy. Even as I re-listen, I still have no clue.

ROLF Awards

2009-02-03T10:33:00.000-08:00

"Jessica" explains the rules as follows:-

"To award someone a ROFL Award:

1. Pick a post from the current month that made you laugh.
[Please only choose original material written or developed by a blogger - i.e., not a YouTube video, cartoon, or joke circling the Net.]

2. E-mail me a link to the post that you are nominating AND a link to your blog by the deadline.
[I will send you the award button so you can share it with the blogger you've nominated.]

3. I will send you the award button code a day or so before the awards are to be posted.

4. Send the person you are awarding the award button code and let them know when the ROFL Awards will be posted for the month.

5. On the first Friday of the month, write a post on your blog about the post you nominated.
[Please link back to this blog (Oh, The Joys) and to Tania at Chicky Chicky Baby so that people can see the full list of award winning funny posts.]

6. Read all the funny posts for the month and enjoy!

Feel free to e-mail me with questions.

I look forward to laughing with you!"

Not sure about the 'first Friday' versus the deadline, but here is my offering in any case:-

To "Lime" over at the "House of Lime" for her wonderful post called "Signs of an unwell mind" that's just my kind of mind.
Cheers dears

Escape Artistes

2009-01-27T10:51:00.000-08:00

I don gardening gloves before diving out into the cold. I leave "Nonna" in the house watching Manga Anime and hope that this doesn’t constitute "elder abuse." I commence an hour’s hard labour, as I transfer rocks from the garden to the fence line. Thatcher, our new puppy is determined to dig for freedom. He has already adopted several favourable sites where he burrows. Broadly speaking, my neighbours are more mellow and tolerant than many, but the appearance of a 45 lb puppy in their back yards, might just tip the balance. As I heave, I think about all the other people determined to escape the premises. The deadlocks work for the children, but other "senior members" of the household are every bit as wily.

I can’t quite fathom when "exactly" life became quite so "complicated" but I’m certain that when I first installed the rock garden I had no idea that I would end up where I am now. The heavy, stability of a rock garden seemed the cement on our new American life. I never expected to be dis-assembling it for such a bizarre purpose.

I ordered it on-line as it comes with 3 homing tags.

I’m so glad to be living in the 21st century.

And if anyone mentions wrap around services or Respite Care, I may just crack, or possibly croak, as it's strictly 'do-it-yourself' around here.

January Jaunty Jest

2009-01-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

Have you read something during this month of January that made you laugh out loud? Was it something that might make other people have the same reaction? If so you may wish to leave a link to that post in the comments section here, or e-mail me or write a little note to "Jessica" over at "Oh the Joys" and her jolly good pal "Tania" at "Chicky Chicky Baby" for their "ROLF" award for January.

Maybe I could invite you to play along too?

As they say:-

'If you are willing, we'd love help spreading the word. Feel free to share the deadlines with your followers and friends on Twitter and / or Facebook .

Thanks so much!

Jessica & Tania'

I'd attempt the Twitter / Facebook option but sadly, technically challenged persons, such as myself are incapable of such feats.

What I'd really like to know is whether I can submit four suggestions or recommendations? I maintain four blogs, I read lots of other blogs. Some are quite hilarious, others draw me for different reasons. Surely I could provide four nominations, although I suspect that would constitute cheating?

Cheers dears

All men are beasts

2009-01-17T08:49:00.000-08:00

I lie in bed at night, alone. It’s the same every year, once a year. Once a year, on the first Friday after his birthday, my spouse leaves for his annual pub crawl with his friends, who used to be young men but are now all old cronies. It’s a tight schedule, on foot, to twenty different venues at 15 minute intervals. I remain home with the children for several different reasons. The primary reason is that someone must remain fully functioning during the rest of the weekend’s hangover, and oh what a mother of all hangovers it is.

I wouldn’t mind so much if he were a regularly drinker, I think, but for the rest of the year he is dry. Nothing more dangerous than a fizzy coke. How does a body cope with that kind of onslaught?

Hence, once a year, I go to bed early, or at least relatively early, after a glass of wine to speed me on my way. I know that the last call, at ‘The Last Call,’ is at 1 in the morning. I know that approximately two in the morning I shall wake up. I shall wake up and be extremely grumpy. I shall be grumpy and alone. I shall remain alone until any time after three but by that time my grumpiness will have vanished. Instead I shall troll through my regular nightmare scenarios. Has he been squished by a bus? Has he died of alcohol poisoning, as well he should? Has he been arrested for miscellaneous misdeamours, as I’m sure that no-one understands the fun of playing ‘dead rats,’ least of all the local constabulary, or cops, as we now call them. I should quite like to be present as he lies in the middle of the road on his back, squealing ‘dead rats,’ whilst his legs and arms bicycle through the empty air and explains his purpose to a cop. By about four I give up and peek out the window. My ears are on heightened alert to pick up pin pricks, although it will probably be crashes and bangs.

Between 4 and 5 I will hear him, I’m almost sure I will? I hope I shall? I’ll check the LED on the clock as the numbers flip over slowly, oh so slowly.

When I hear the noise I’m up in a flash to spy. I look outside into the yard as the sun begins to rise, where he sits on the concrete with an arm around the silent dog as he howls to the non-existent moon.

Mothers

2009-01-12T08:42:00.000-08:00

We notice each other moments after our dogs notice each other. She is a large woman of generous proportions on the other side of the road. She crosses over. The marshmallow and the stick insect exchange pleasantries. She suggests that although her puppy is a nervous type that maybe our "dogs" could meet each other. Two quivering Labradoodles attempt contact. Her’s is shaggy, like a poodle. Chocolate brown with a stumpy thumpy tail. Mine is short coated, like a Labrador. Fizzy Champagne with a teasle tail. Two shivering puppies attempt appropriate puppy behaviour. Her owner is perfectly made-up, exquisitely coiffed and co-ordinated in couture. I am in yesterday’s clothes, bare faced and hope to brush my hair tomorrow. I explain our choice, unnecessarily:- eczema, asthma and allergies. She explains hers :- children and family time. We exchange glances. Mine are at home during electronics time. Hers are at home watching the telly. I see her hopes and the bead of sweat on her temple. It’s reflected in her over glistening eyes. She dabs a finger to the corner, gently, as she bends to untangle herself from her dog and the lead. I am a novice. Like all novices I have read the "book," the theory. I’m crouched on the grass embracing Thatcher as puppy jumping is to be discouraged but "proper practice" is tougher than the theory. I don’t mention our morning walk, together, all of us, for an hour and a half. I try to practice smiling. She smiles back, tired, weary, but still hopeful. We remain in Tableau, several moments longer than might be expected. Broadly speaking, I follow the rule that unsolicited advice is unwise, to anyone, let alone strangers. Foreigners should always try to keep their own counsel but because I am a novice, I decide to be bold and share, because I have read the book. “You know……” I start as I concentrate on the woven fibres covering her knees.
“Hmm?”
“I read that it’s very important to be a confident owner……..it’s something…….. I’m working on.” Her eyes find my eyes as I stand up, straight, almost as tall as her shoulder. Her shoulders straighten too. “Mebee I could try that too?” We beam and go on our way, dragging our dogs behind us. Women, our connections make us strong.