Wasted

So it's 3:49am; a still night lit up by a full moon and I'm standing on the front patio in the moonlight soaking up the Lady's benevolence and...

...the dog walks under the sensor whilst picking her way back from having a piddle and the floodlights come on. What a mood killer, I may as well go back to bed.

Waste of good ambiance, that was.

Scratch that location

Do not ever let anyone tell you, "it's just a scratch".

There is no such thing. What there is, is a sliding scale of injury, from "ouch" through to "OUCH" and all points in between. Size, conformation, depth of penetration, length (starting to sound like a Viagra advertisement, innit...) and infected status all matter - it is NEVER "just a scratch".

I have been sliding downhill again lately, hence the sporadic nature of my posts here. I go to bed each night in a state of fear that the dark hours will bring not enough sleep and too much pain, I awaken at 2, at 3 at 4 or 5 in the morning in despair that my fears were once more realised. I burn, I writhe, I ache and I hurt and I commiserate with myself because there is no bastard there to do it with. Even Tommy doesn't care.

And now, freshly acquired, there's The Scratch. It extends down most of the length of my right ring finger, on the underside, in the middle. It is shallow; it is narrow and it is fucking SORE. It is NOT just a scratch but an instrument of torture put there by a sharp piece of wire on the old rabbit cage which I can't quite bear to dispose of cos I like bunnies and might want to have another one one day.

The Scratch has two small companions on my left hand - one is approx 7mm long in the crease of my little finger's first knuckle, around the side a bit. The other is slightly shorter and in the crease between index finger and thumb. I am no wimpy wussy sook, but this Evil Trinity of Physical Violation has disturbed my equilibrium tonight as much as my MS simply because I did not realise how much one uses one's fingers when doing absolutely any bloody thing (including nothing) at all, especially the ring finger. Even sleeping. It's 4am, my finger hurts and I want my Mummy.

No, I am not going to take a bloody picture for you but it's lucky my middle fingers are undamaged, eh. I can still use those. See?

Excrement occurs

I've been dabbling with sheep shit pellets, for the vege garden you understand and now I need some horse shit to go with it. Strawberries and rhubarb love shit and this is where they will be living in it.



There was shitty traffic this morning as, once more, the roading repair gang, in its infinite wisdom coned off a main commuter route during peak traffic to start the days work on a trench they are digging across the road. That's two days running they have done that in the same place. I think they might have shit in their heads, although even a shit head should be able to wait until 9.10am when the rush disappears to start work. What's an extra 40 minute wait compared with the congestion they cause, hmmm?

There was shit flying when I dropped Ad's bed on my foot this morning (don't ask) and a few other expletives. Not enough noise to get Tommy out of bed, although I think I broke my foot cos shit it hurts.



Things got a bit shittier when my washing machine broke about lunchtime. Tommy left the building after that.

There is plenty of shit happening for Living Art Wildlife Park, with a mortgagee sale looming tomorrow. Having been friends with these very special people for 20 years, it makes me feel pretty shitty, too. They featured on Campbell Live tonight. The video is here or YouTube



Then there is the shit that the Flatcats have, as previously mentioned.

I'm not frequently brought down by stuff like this, but I've been forced back onto the clonazepam at a more frequent dose than I like and apart from the deep depression it rapidly brings on, I still spend half the night wandering the house in pain and that makes me feel like shit all day. It's not like there's going to be any respite soon. If at all.

Life really is shit sometimes. In lots of nasty ways.

****************************

UPDATE: Living Art gets to live one more month with a court ordered stay of execution and a halt to the auction, just minutes before it was scheduled to begin. Now all that's needed is a rich philanthropist with a burning desire to save the world, one wildlife park at a time and starting here.

Or tomorrow night's Powerball numbers. Either would be good right about now.

Faith and fire walking

I was just thinking, as I was putting marmalade on my toast just now that if one does not have some satisfaction in life, one really has nothing. But that comes with a rider...

For instance, today I weeded the front garden and topped it up with wood chips. Not a big thing, unless you know what my front garden looked like 6 months ago, in which case you are probably thinking "the silly bitch has been overdoing it again", and you would be right. The payment for an intense satisfaction at having a tidy front garden for the first time in nearly 13 years is an equal and opposite DISsatisfaction with the spasm and pain in my legs. But still, the day was sufficient unto itself, as every day should be.

My Lady Flatcat said in passing, just the other day, that some small annoyance wouldn't matter in a hundred years time. And she is, of course, right. The broken plate, the unfinished projects, the loss of time to finish living the way you want, the weedy and overgrown garden, these will not be remembered in 100 years time cos we'll all be gone then and so will our kids and if we took anything with us to the Great Beyond, I reckon it's the satisfaction of a job well done. No matter what the job was, we'll take the memories of our achievements with us.

The rider is that we have to search for our own satisfaction; no-one can give it to us.

All we can do is our very best; all that is required is an honest commitment. All that matters is that we were the best people we could be. But it all happens one day at a time, one hour at a time. etc.

Flattie and I keep telling each other that we must have Faith. At the moment neither of us can practice what we preach. There are some jobs that seem to lack any possibly satisfaction, but it's there, buried deep. He'll find it although it will be a hard and painful road through the flames.

That's Life for most of us, eh.

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists and turns of Fate
Rob Thomas.

Out of my tree

Flattie and Lady Flattie came down for lunch today, with knitting and chainsaw in tow. The chainsaw was put to excellent use, wielded in the fight against oppression - in this case the few remaining privet around the perimeter of the section got cut off at the ankles. So did the rotted trunk on one side of the plum tree. The burnables went in the back of Sherman, a couple of interesting pieces I put aside for garden decoration (it's a pretty, pink wood, plum) and the rest I gave to the bird down the other end of the driveway. The feathered kind, a cockatoo named... wait for it... Cocky. Cocky has a wife named Ruby (but she isn't ruby coloured because that would be plain wrong) with whom he chats at a hundred miles an hour. From the look on her face I don't think she understands any more than we do when he starts running off at the beak. But he certainly took a liking to the pile of plum wood outside his aviary, all crumbly as it is in the middle with slaters and ants all through it and became so animated that his Mum gave him some to play with before bed just to shut him up.

It's a hard life, being a spoilt brat bird.

The truncated privet has largely been binned over the bank (and I nearly sent myself over a couple of times in the process) and all that's left to shift is a thick clump of creepers and vines that have had years undisturbed in the far reaches to grow thick and lush and into something satisfying to sink the loppers into.

I don't think I'm the only one has found wanton destruction cathartic in the Battle of Bulbar Palsy; I think Flattie did too.

Jam and pam

I've been taking my pills, and not taking other pills that don't go so well together. First night - 2 x clonazepam (Pams); second night - 2 Pams and finally relief from the spacticity was forthcoming, Third night - one Pam and one Pam tonight. No Pams tomorrow night, all going to plan, Unless this spasm gets worse... All things in moderation, especially nasty yet unavoidable medications. And gardening, grieving, boozing and eating. After all, some things leave a bad taste in your mouth and grubby hands.

We received bad news the other day, the sort of news that makes you sit down and say "Oh Jesus fucking Christ in a sidecar". Or something. Someone close to us and treasured enormously, someone very lovely, very special has something very, very nasty. And no-one can fix it.

And it makes me frustrated, sad and very fucking angry. It also reaffirms my attention to a frequently ignored little voice that lives inside me, whispering seditious things, things in conflict with my normal beliefs, things like "to get anywhere in this life, you have to be a complete shit". Because that's what it looks like at the moment.

I could rattle off a list of names of decent people, kind people, loving and generous and smart people who have spent at least some of their lives fighting battles in a war they could never win - the war against chronic illness, pain and early check outs.

So I went out in the garden today, driven by my new found ability to walk post-Pam and I dug. I dug and I wheeled and I dug some more in the hope that that voice inside me would stop comparing the lot of the Jude's and Marks, the Riccardos and the Alisons of this world who battle the odds with honesty while the likes of the Tiggers, the Colins and the Wonderboys go through life backstabbing and destroying the people who trust them, give more than is required of them and foolishly honour them.

So I filled the barrow a few times and I emptied it into the new vege tower, and I started planting the little camellias along the front garden and as I laboured I thought to myself, I should become a complete cunt, one of those jammy bastards, and then Life would be a doddle. They make their OWN misery to have something to wave around for attention. But that other voice inside's been reminding me that no-one ever said Life was supposed to be fair. Just as well, innit, or some bastard would be getting one Hell of a kick in the cods, right about now.

Life sux and God's a bastard. He gives the bad stuff to the wrong people.

It's a shame beer and Pams aren't supposed to go together, cos tonight I really don't give a shit. Eh.

Weathering the storm

It's been a wild week weather wise. The wind blew, lots. It rained some, too. Then it fined up long enough to be able to notice when the wind and rain came back, only this time it rained more than blew. I think.

We had waves at the Mount






and a duck pond down at the park



and the dog refused to go out for a pee in case her feet got wet.


Anyway, some people have died, some have been deroofed and some have shown themselves to be the luckiest bastards on Earth. These ones, to be specific.



God I wish some of the rest of us got that lucky cos sometimes life in general just sux. This week's bad news proves that. There are potentially worse ways to die than having a tree fall on you.

Joint at the hip

It's been a bit of a rough autumn and winter, emotionally, physically, mentally. I had those Clonazepam pills to control the muscle spasms which I stopped taking some weeks back when they ended up making a zombie out of me (both the pills and the spasms). Not a state I enjoyed being in and certainly hard to function even minimally whilst under their influence. But six odd weeks after ditching it, I've taken a very sudden and serious physical decline to the point where, in only a few days my good leg has become my bad leg and my bad leg, whilst constantly pumping out enough warmth to heat a small village, does not give me even a tenth of the pain and misery the other one now does. If you told me to get knotted, I'd say I had already started, as my entire right calf muscle has been in spasm for the past 15 hours without let up on a leg whose hurts start at the hip and peter out at the ankle.

It tends to cramp ones style - literally. The codeine hasn't helped.

So, after 4 days of ceaseless pain and rapidly declining mobility, I bit the bullet tonight and restarted the Clonazepam, as per doctor's suggestion to stay off it a month minimum then reintroduce it for short bursts that won't (hopefully) be so debilitating.

I'm still waiting for a neuro appointment; I wish he'd hurry up. I'd happily undergo his bloody IV steroids if it meant my legs would return to (ab)normal and stay that way. I feel like I'm staring down the barrel of a telescope called Destiny and the mirror finish is distorting the reflection coming back. I don't like what I see...

Oh yeah, I was going to tell you why what ails you, ails you.

Check out this site - Health Problems and Emotional Causes. It has the reason for everything, from Abscess (hurts, slights, revenge) to Zoo-Phobia (fear of accepting life’s gifts and joys).

In the meantime, I will be working on my Multiple Sclerosis which is apparently caused by mental hardness, hard-heartedness, iron will, inflexibility, traits PWMS potentially build within them to help them cope with a shitty existence the disease brings with it and the people around them who just don't give a fuck, and therefore don't measure up in the Humanity stakes.

Have fun exploring what makes *you* tick; I hope it amuses you as much as it did me. I do like a good joke ;-)

Update: It's 3.17 am and I'm up for the third time. Wheat sacks aren't working, COG painkillers aren't working, can't take another dose of codeine because I gotta function and drive in a few hours. God knows I've become adept at ignoring pain, but this lot is taking a bit more effort.

Oh, and there is big rain forecast for much of this week. Getting repeatedly wet is guaranteed to help with aches and pains. And increase the likelihood of a slippery fall, like I took in the paddock the other day. Tommy and Nushie were the only witnesses and I know they wont tell.

The outlook seems quite bleak from here. Eh.

Going round in circles

We are having a storm, a weather bomb, a cyclone.

Lots of people have no power, some people have no trampolines. A few have no roof on their house and across the Upper North Island, random garden sheds have taken to the skies. We have been fortunate that, so far, our damage is confined to one bamboo length snapped off about 20 feet from the ground and I would be happy if things stayed that way.

I took these pics at the main Beach this afternoon. You know me; any excuse to get up close to a wild and raging sea. This one was better than nothing.





Now that was worth reading, eh! Tune in tomorrow and I'll tell you all about why you have the diseases and ailments you have.

I can't wait, either.

PS - there were surfers out in that this afternoon and it's been reported that 3 kayakers set out to paddle 30 odd kilometres from Maketu to the Mount in that sea, despite the Met Service warnings. One of them is still lost and the other two might be paying for the Search and Rescue operation they caused. Time will tell whether that story is accurate. Maybe it's a tough expensive life, being "human". It can come to a sudden halt, too. Death is a rather extreme consequence for making a mistake, as I'm sure Darwin would concur. I just feel sorry for the SAR people, risking their lives because others get themselves lost.

Oh baby

What's taller than me, heavier than me, the opposite gender to me and reaches things that I can't?

That's it, my baby who was born 15 years ago this day. The one who slept all the time, the one who smiled all the time he wasn't asleep, the one who was hooked on cooking almost before he could walk, victim aficionado of food prep infomercials; he who loves diggers and trains, trucks and planes and soon will be out on the roads with a learner permit under his belt and a steering wheel in his hands, the one who still can't beat his sister at Monopoly - Chuck Chucklebutt



Happy birthday, Baby, I love ya.

Name and shame

This wee gem has been in the news today...

6:44PM Thursday July 24, 2008

New Zealand children have been given names such as Number 16 Bus Shelter, Violence and Benson and Hedges(twins).

But other names, including Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Stallion, Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucy and Sex Fruit, have been blocked by registration officials..

more...

A judge called it child abuse but CYFS, in their version of infinite wisdom don't agree...

A 'strange name' doesn't constitute abuse: CYF
4:25PM Thursday July 24, 2008

Child Youth and Family does not consider giving a child an out-of-the-ordinary name a form of abuse.

A New Plymouth Judge has forced a nine-year-old' parents to change her name from 'Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii'

The girl's lawyer told the judge she was so embarrassed of her name she refused to reveal it to friends.

A CYF spokeswoman says the name a parent chooses for a child does not constitute a care and protection issue in itself.

She says, however, if a child suffers serious bullying as a result of his or her name, this may lead on to possible notifications through the youth justice system.

Personally, knowing someone who went out of their way to give their kids the stupidest names I've ever run across in the name of some romantically perceived ancient family lineage (a.k.a searching for roots and only finding babies) my thoughts on the bestowal of weird and wacky monikers already lean towards the negative, but some of these are just beyond a joke. And if nothing else, the name Number 16 Bus Shelter just proves that prohibiting sex in public places is a very good thing. Oh yeah, I think Hawaii is probably over rated, too. Maybe someone should send these cretinous wannabe parents there with a one way ticket. They can take the CYFs workers with them!

Men in skirts

This one's for Flattie *insert big cheesy grin*



Utilikilts - not just dresses for men.

Men and paws

After 9 days of pampering and fussing, this evening Matey went home. But not before he had one last cuddle on Ad's lap.



Sad wee puppy, eh.

Speaking of sad, in honour of the Old man's big birthday this weekend, we all went out for dinner at the local buffet tonight with some of the out of town rellies. When we rolled up to the location, the kids Sperm Donor was standing outside by the front doors, waiting for his latest chicky to show up. So we had a chat for a few minutes and I asked what happened to last month's lady (they had a "parting" *rolls eyes*), then we wandered on inside to await the rest of the dinner party leaving him to his own waiting. Lucky fellow, he got to chat to his ex-father in law and ex aunt and uncle in law a few minutes after his conversation with his ex wife and ex kids while waiting for his current whatever.

An hour and a half later, as we were ending our meal and about to leave the restaurant, he and his lady walked in and were shown to a booth right next to our table. Of course the rellies, being the polite people they are, said good night to him and wished him a pleasant evening and the kids, being the polite and well raised pair that they are, insisted on going around that side of the table to say 'bye to dad on their way out and so got introduced to this week's conquest.

Taught them well, didn't I!

While we were waiting at the cashier's desk, I happened to cast my glance around in time to spot SD now sitting beside his lady friend and snogging her. When I looked back the other way, I saw my uncle watching it with a look of utter distaste on his his face and I cracked up laughing.

As I said to the kids in the car a few minutes later, I didn't really think a family restaurant was the place for tonsil hockey at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not when tongue wasn't even on offer on tonight's buffet.

Timing is everything, don't you think? And his couldn't get much worse.

Now and den

I'm a bit glum; I seem to have reached one of those points in life where change is needed but motivation (or guts) to do so is lacking. The crap weather lately hasn't helped. But even pottering in the garden today, sweeping, weeding and spreading wood chips in the sun, couldn't shift me from a sense of impending change. A desire for change.

I wandered around the upstairs again today looking at the space and thinking how nice it might be to finish the redecorating and shift all my stuff up here and hibernate for a while in the Refuge. I could just ignore the front door and plead old age and deteriorating hearing as the reason I didn't answer it. Knowing my luck, the minute I did that the Oldies would want to move back in and I'd have moved all my furniture for nothing.

Once the Old Man's big birthday bash is over this weekend, I think I'll just curl up on the couch for a few weeks and make the lounge up here my winter den. There's a lot less effort required for that. I always was a lazy bitch, apparently :0)

Besides, Ads has taken over the big den for his layout and I ain't gonna get any peace in there.

Flashy

I blamed Flattie for this one, but he reckons he didn't send it to me. But I'll blame him anyway and you can too.

It's mint

[geek]I've been rediscovering the joy of pissing about with my own computers and operating systems this week, having acquired a different version of XP and a new *nix distro, called Linux Mint, a variant of Ubuntu.



I downloaded and burnt the iso this morning, ran it as a live cd for an hour or 3 this afternoon then installed it on a spare hard drive tonight, slaved on the 733 shitbox in the upstairs lounge and dual booting with the Slim XP I installed on it in place of Win98 the day before yesterday. [/end geek]

Ripper.

I remember why I loved this shit now. I think it's the only bit of those Polytech years I'll bother to try to keep.

Ads got up on his hind legs today and went to Classic Flyers. He was rapt to be able to show me their latest acquisition when I picked him up this afternoon - the cockpit of a De Havilland Vampire which arrived at 8 last night from Ohakea. It's very cool.

Mistaken

A young man who repeatedly shot at police during a two-hour pursuit between Rotorua and Waihi says his actions were "just a mistake inlife"(sic).

James Raymond Warren Samuells, 20, was shot by police after refusing to surrender and is a paraplegic as a result.

Yesterday, he made a sudden change of plea and admitted eight charges of using a firearm against police before a depositions hearing at the Tauranga District Court.

He also pleaded guilty to burglary and vehicle theft, and will now be sentenced in September. A charge of attempted murder was downgraded.

more...

The only mistake was that our Police can't shoot for shit.

Last week, there was this one, a real Prince among scumbags - beat the shit out of his girlfriend, stole her car, stole petrol in a drive-off and then wrapped himself and the car around someone's house while they were in it.

The man who died when his car slammed into a house after a police pursuit in Palmerston North early yesterday was Peter Joseph Kotsifakis, of Levin.

The 18-year-old failed to stop for police after driving away from a Palmerston North service station without paying just before midnight on Saturday.

Police said he had been involved in a domestic incident earlier in the evening.

Detective Senior Sergeant Craig Sheridan said an 18-year-old woman, known to Mr Kotsifakis, had been admitted to Palmerston North Hospital with serious facial injuries, some time before midnight.

more...

Want more low-lives on the run?

This one killed a police officer overnight...

A police officer was killed on duty this morning after being struck by a stolen car.

The Porirua officer, believed to be 40, was hit by a car after a pursuit in Titahi Bay, near Wellington, about 3am this morning.

Kapiti Mana area commander Inspector John Spence said the officer's death had "devastated" colleagues.

Serious crash investigators were at the scene on Dimock St, near the Downes St intersection.

Wellington district commander, Superintendent Pieri Munro, said the black Honda Prelude had been stolen and was later seen at Titahi Bay.

"Some spikes were laid for the vehicle to stop it and one of our police officers was struck in that context and died at the scene," he said.

Mr Munro said the car was being chased but details were still being gathered.

more...

The before-the-fact cure for all 3 would have been abortion, no matter how righteously indignant one might feel about the subject.

So be careful out there, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean these wankers aren't, by default, out to get YOU, too. They are on our roads. Have a nice day :-)

Old mates

We gained an extra dog today, just a few days babysitting. Matey has returned to the fold for a few days R&R, drooling on the cats, sleeping on the couch, knocking things over with his windmill tail and putting Nush down a level to where she already was - at the bottom of the heap.

Here he is, fully engaged in Eyelid Inspection at 4am tomorrow (now).



Tommy did his job with much more style at 10am yesterday



Now if only they'd all stop pissing on my pile of woodchips. I mean, is it really necessary?

Yeah, I'm bored, too. I think I'll go back to bed. I can get a couple of hours in before the world starts to wake up, if I can get Tommy off my pillows.

Crystal clear

It's a beautiful night out there - calm, cold, clear and every sound seems magnified. Just the right acoustics to really hear the fucking boy racers doing donuts and burnouts on the hill. About every 20 minutes or so and then they run away in case someone's called the Police. Then they come back...

At $2.18/litre, how the hell do they afford the petrol?

Medical procedures

Tinks, our resident Cat Scanner. We have a shar pei so I can't give you a Lab report. Sorry.

Windy and insane

It's windy and rainy and cold and snowing on the Kaimais. I don't remember an occasion in my lifetime where the Kaimai Rd has been closed by snow and ice, but tonight it is. This is the Sunny Bay, we don't DO snow and ice.

We are more the sea, sun, surf place, eh.

The Springboks didn't like the snow in Wellington tonight, they lost to us at the rugby.

Speaking of surf, I had never thought about the existence of wave pools until tonight and now I am fascinated by the extraordinary lengths people will go to just to get wet.



My dislike of getting wet is the stuff of blogging Legend, I'm sure I must have drowned in a previous lifetime. Probably in a Roman wave pool. Like this, but older, hmm?



I don't think the Romans knew about Japan or the Western world might have ended up predominantly Shinto instead of Catholic.

PS - Ads asked the surgeon if the bleeding-to-death person the other day lived. The surgeon said "yes". Ads said "good". Kids really do say the darndest things.

The deepest cut

After the false start in theatre the other day, today went off without a hitch until it was dinner time and someone decided he wasn't staying over night like the surgeon insisted he do. Talk about whine and snivel and moan, didn't want dinner, didn't want to stay, didn't want to go to kids ward, or an adults ward, just didn't want to co-operate until the first real twinges of an anaesthetic fully wearing off hit and then he became a wee bit more tractable, co-operative and dare I say it, even docile.

Now he is tucked up in the childrens ward watching movies, eating ice cream and nuts and drinking milkshake-type drinks. In a couple more hours he can have a big dose of codeine and settle off to sleep.

I hope to do the same very soon. It's been a very looong day. Tomorrow isn't looking any shorter.

Faster

The receptionist said be there at 12.30; the letter said be there at 10.30.

At 10.20, there we were at the surgical admissions unit to check in for Ads to have his toes fixed, and for the next 90 minutes, there we stayed, in the waiting room. Just before 12 they took him to get into a gown, robe and checked all his records were correct before plonking us in the day-stay area containing people in similar gowns and robes. Hungry people; thirsty people, people who, just like Ads had been fasting since the night before in preparation for their trip to theatre today.

We read. We chatted. We got very bored, more thirsty and hungry and a ciggie would have gone down rather well. Ok, maybe not for Ads, but I wouldn't have complained.

One by one they disappeared until finally, at 3.30, there were only 2 left - Ads and a guy having his veins fixed, who had been there since 7.30am. A doctor had just inserted a lure into Ads' arm and a nurse had finally given him something for his headache. After 18 hours with no food or water, his headache was pretty bad.

And then the surgeon came out and said "I'm sorry but I've been called away to someone at the hospital up the road who is bleeding to death, I have to reschedule you two for Friday morning, if I can".

So they took his lure out, brought a cup of water, some ham sammies (sans butter) and his clothes and off home we went.

After breakfast (at 4pm), a nap and dinner (at 7.30pm), his headache finally matured into the mongrel it had been promising to be and the vomiting and shakes started. My brave soldier went back to bed, with his manky toes untouched.

Poor wee bastard, what a shitty day for nothing and he gets to start all over again tomorrow night.

*sigh*

I don't feel too flash, either.

Over it

Sick. I'm real sick and I am soooooo over this whole MS thing and all this hobbling around, waking at 4am in pain, body temp down and can't warm up, you know, shit like that. It makes me forget things, like that I have to buy milk when I pick H up from school, until I'm already miles from home and wearing an eclectic little ensemble consisting of big baggy jersey, trackies, red socks and Ads' big dark blue floppy slippers and no bra. Oops.

The Old Man reckons that sheer perversity (if not fashion sense) will keep me alive and kicking into senior years, just like it did Mum. Well he got the perverse bit right, maybe he does know me after all even if he can't remember when I was born ;-)

But he did have the temerity to mention I was "middle aged". Ha!

At least I don't look like Yoda



or Golem



yet.

PS - I thought the red socks were a bit much too...

Light show

All that storm activity and none of it is on our side of the Hill. The West Coast is getting all the fun tonight.

Bugger.

Statistically speaking

One of my favourite server tasks was the weekly round up of web server stats, pulled from the monitoring software. They were fun, they showed you just about everything that happens on a server; incoming link url, browser, resolution and OS being used, the country of origin, who the visitor is connected with, how often they visited, how long they visited for, where they went next if they used a link from the server and even down to whether they are on dial up or some flavour of DSL and if they are using a company or academic institution gateway to access the site or an anonymous proxy.

Makes my dim little life just that much brighter to be able to use tools such as this on something like a blog and see all the same details, especially when it comes to some of the weirdos who leave spam comments and stuff only fit for deletion, like some dozey bint did just the other day. It doesn't happen often now that Blogger has grown up and allows so many choices in who can access and contribute to what on your blog, but in the old days it used to be a real spam fest some mornings.

I can see why so many companies and universities, polytechnics etc make accessing social networking sites from their network gateways verboten. With such sites usually blocked out, either an incoming visitor from one of these is very smart in a user capacity, or very dumb in an administrative role.

Space wasters, bandwidth, resource and oxygen thieves abound in large numbers! Stats for real.

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news

I got a bad case of clonazepam blues.

So I'm off that shit, for now anyway. Reckons a couple of weeks of more stress while the withdrawal happens, seeing as how they aren't nice pills, have a break for a month or two and try them again, see if they work then cos they sure don't work any more now and he won't up the dose any further. I wouldn't take a bigger dose anyway, I don't think.

Other option is the Baclofen again, but seeing as how I kind of need my vision to drive and stuff, that's out of the question after last time. So until I can see neuro and maybe start those IV steroids, it's heavy duty pain killers and true grit for the foreseeable future.

If this waking rigid in pain at 4am doesn't get better, it could be a very short one lol

The late, great

Warren Zevon died in 2003 but before he left, he penned a little number that until this point in my life I hadn't really listened to the lyrics of, despite being a bit of a WZ fan.

Tonight, Flattie gave me cause to see it in a new light, as a song of relevance to Life; Aging and Decay, brought to you by YouTube.

My Shit's Fucked Up - live, of course.

Onya, Warren.



Warren knew that Life will kill ya.

PS I was going to post something completely different that happened early this morning, but I'll leave that for another night.

I can wait, I have nothing but time... eh...

Wearing fatigues

I'm tired. Dog tired, drag the feet tired, fall asleep sitting up tired. I-just-wanna-sleep-tired.

MS tired.

Too tired even to bother yelling at the kids and that was the fun part of the day.

I'm sick. I think I have a chest infection brewing but the doc was busy until next Monday. The garlic is holding it in check. Sort of. My legs are wobbly and my eyes are droopy and the clonazepam has me doing a real bad zombie impersonation half the time and the rest of the time I'm hanging for the next dose to stop the spasms.

But I've now lost 24kg in total and 20 in the past 9 months.

Amen.

I need new drugs. Better drugs. Ones that won't make me lean but won't make me fat again.

Listening to: Sting - Desert Rose.
Reading: Nothing. I skimmed the last 3 chapters of Gabaldon and took the damn thing back.


I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand...

Sad

Condolences to Raewyn Garner and the families who have lost two children and another is left badly injured in Starship.

It was like any other Sunday for the Garner family _ Samantha and her friend Kayla Rose, both 14, would spend the evening with Mosaic Church at Mount Maunganui.

And just like every other Sunday, Samantha's older brother Joshua waited at home for a text from his sister, and would go and pick them up.

But last Sunday none of them made it home and now two families are planning funerals.

Mr Garner's Holden car hit a power pole just off the Maungatapu roundabout while heading towards State Highway 29 and Welcome Bay at 9.20pm.

Mr Garner died instantly and back seat passenger Kayla received massive head injuries in the crash.

Raewyn was the friend of one of my neighbours, back in my old married days and I occasionally see her around town.

H told me about the other teen passenger being in hospital the other day, she has since died.

Our thoughts are with you all.

Teresa Green

Thank God we finally got some rain - I was freaking out that I'd have to drag the hose around the house and water everything and that would involve an expenditure of labour I'm too damn sick to manage. Just walking around inside the house is mission enough; parenting is out of my league. The weather makes sleeping extra de rigeur in this house; and less guilt-ridden, if that's possible. I wouldn't mow the lawn in the rain anyway.

At least the rain will make the plants grow, bulbs flower and make sure the lawn and trees are green.