Bergadian

This blog will now cease to exist

2007-11-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

Due to circumstances beyond my control, and much against my wishes, I have to announce that this blog will, as of now (1 November 2007) cease to exist.

Any future blog started by me will be under a different name, in order to avoid the insults received on this blog.

To those innocent readers, I thank you for reading my stories. To those others, you won't know if and when I decide to start another blog.

David

2006-12-12T10:49:00.000-08:00

You do NOT want to know what a disabled pal of mine did when she came down the day my beloved David died. The day following we decided to go out to the local shopping centre, just for some relief.

We had to get people to help get her chair into her Land Rover - and explain how to dismantle Tonto and get him in as well.

Oh. Forgetting the fact that I couldn't get into the thing (the Land Rover) because it was too high, so I kept sort of slipping off.

Not to mention trying to get out.

Help help help - where is the ground? I can't see it.

Oh, what fun we had, and how it helped stop the tears. Because her long divorced husband, but still the father of her children, had died a couple of days before my beloved David.

Who is watching over all of us, with his beautiful smile.

Sleep well, David.

And the sun is shining

2006-12-04T02:58:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here with the door wide open. The sun is streaming in - HRH is sitting outside watching with interest the Mourning tents being dismantled next door, all the chairs sorted as to which belonged to whom and which to the Moshav.

There are four overflowing wheelie bins outside my house (well they needed the pavement next door for the extra chairs and benches). Cartons/plastic bottles/you name it, galore, waiting for the Local Authority to come and do a special pick up. And then I will have to rescue my own wheelie bin from the others!

And the sun is shining.

Today is the final official day of mourning for my beloved David, and as the sun shines on me now, so can I feel him smiling at me and see his beautiful face.

And the sun is shining.

Time for tears have gone. We had a week first mourning and then rejoicing in the life of the most wonderful man. A Tzaddik (a wise man). A Rabbi. A teacher. And pupils of his from the year dot came from all over Israel to say goodbye to him and pay their respects.

And the sun is shining and we can begin to smile again.

L'hitraot my friend. My brother-in-heart.

The Trouble with Men

2006-10-06T02:15:00.000-07:00

MENtal illness,
MENstruation,
MENopause,
GUYnocologist,
and when we have real trouble it's a HISterectomy! Ever notice how women's problems start with MEN?

How to get rid of a man

2006-10-05T06:03:00.000-07:00

How to turn men down - with style!
HE Can I buy you a drink?
SHE Actually I'd rather have the money.

HE I'm a photographer.. I've been looking for a face like yours.
SHE I'm a plastic surgeon. I've been looking for a face like yours.

HE Hi. Didn't we go on a date once or was it twice?
SHE Must've been once. I never make the same mistake twice.

HE How did you get to be so beautiful?
SHE I must've been given your share.

HE Will you go out with me this Saturday?
SHE Sorry. I'm having a headache this weekend.

HE Your face must turn a few heads
SHE And your face must turn a few stomachs.

HE Go on, don't be shy. Ask me out.
SHE Okay, get out.

HE I think I could make you very happy
SHE Why? Are you leaving?

HE What would you say if I asked you to marry me?
SHE Nothing. I can't talk and laugh at the same time.

HE Can I have your name?
SHE Why? Don't you already have one?

HE Shall we go see a movie?
SHE I've already seen it.

HE Where have you been all my life?
SHE Hiding from you.

HE Haven't I seen you some place before?
SHE Yes. That's why I don't go there anymore.

HE Is this seat empty?
SHE Yes, and this one will be if you sit down.

HE So, what do you do for a living?
SHE I'm a female impersonator.

HE Hey baby, what's your sign?
SHE Do not enter.

HE If I could see you naked, I'd die happy.
SHE If I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing.

HE Where have you been all my life?
SHE Where I'll be the rest of your life - in your wildest dreams.

Letter to a friend.....

2006-09-19T02:21:00.000-07:00

Did I get my veggies? Are you joking? No, not courgettes (I've got home-frozen ones in the freezer and it isn't hot veggie weather). I came back from the macolet with the following:

In Tonto's tray under the seat:

2 or 3 or 4 (forget) litres of fresh orange juice. Not made from concentrated & water but fresh pasteurised. 2 tins of chickpeas. 3 tins of champignon mushrooms (a pack of 3 on special) (NO, NOT THAT pack of 3!). 2 tins of sliced mushrooms. 2 tins of tiny garden peas. (all tins for use cold in salads). Forget what else. Oh yes, 2 jars of the speshullist mayo in the world. And a kilo bag of carrots balanced somehow.

On one arm of Tonto. A bag with 6 peaches. Ditto with 6 nectarines. On other arm. Ditto with 6 huge plums. Ditto with ton of vine cherry toms.

Front little basket. 12 assorted yogs. And something else - forget.

On footrest - with my legs sort of draped over them. One bag with 2 large white cabbages. Ditto with 2 massive caulis. Bags held on by bungee cord looped over steering wotsit.

And balanced on Lexie (who was on my lap), the steering wotsit, and the basket was a pack of 48 bogrolls.

Don't forget, Tonto is a very TINY little scooter, the sort that folds up and fits into a car boot.

Drove home VERY s l o w l y, holding on the bogrolls with one hand and steering and driving with the other. Mind you, it was only across the little road and down my ramp. Put key in door, open door slightly and put key in inside of door.

Problem. Front door isn't proper front door width. It's interior door width. Come to think of it, it IS an interior door. I had the doorframe moved and the new door so that it opens outwards to make life easier, and the sort of step up into the house is now an ickle slope up.
So I have to drive round the patio until I am facing dead on to the door, and go whoooosh into the house.

Problem. Narrow doorway plus bags on each arm equals a bit dodgy. Bog rolls fell off in front on Tonto. HELLUP HELLUP HELLUP. Sat having hysterics. Laf laf laf.

Then one of the bags on the footrest rolled off and the leg that was resting on it went flop down and caused even more width to get through a narrow doorway.

Have you stopped laughing yet?

Eventually got in. Got stuff put away. Luckily I have a humungous fridge as all fruit and veggies live in the fridge. Opened cupboard in back room to put tins away and one that was inside jumped out and hit my foot. Sod it.

OMIGAWD. I forgot to buy apples.

Right - well, you DID ask if I got my veggies.....................

Joke of the day

2006-07-26T02:56:00.000-07:00

In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake. The hot,
dry fly who said to no one in particular, "Gosh... if I go down three
inches... I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed."

There was a fish in the water thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down
three inches, I can eat him."

There was a bear on the shore thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down
three inches that fish will jump for the fly...and I wil l grab him."

It also happened that a hunter was farther up the bank of the lake
preparing to eat a cheese sandwich...."Gosh," he thought, "if that fly goes down
three inches...and that fish leaps for it...that bear will expose himself and
grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and have a proper lunch."

You probably think this is enough activity on one bank of a lake,but I
can tell you there's more....

A wee mouse by the hunter's foot was thinking, "Gosh... if that fly
goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly... and that bear
grabs for that fish...the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese
sandwich."

A cat lurking in the bushes took in this scene and thought, as was
fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch
time...Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps
for that fly... and that bear grabs for that fish and that hunter shoots
that bear..and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich... then I can
have mouse for lunch."

The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the
cooling mist of the water.

The fish swallows the fly...
the bear grabs the fish...
the hunter shoots the bear...
the mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
the cat jumps for the mouse...
the mouse ducks...
the cat falls into the water and drowns.

The moral of the story is:
Whenever a fly goes down three inches ...

some "cat" is in serious danger.

2006-05-15T10:53:00.000-07:00

How to shower HRH

1 - Wheel into shower room, reverse out pulling shower chair.

2 - Get hold of a plastic chair and push it into shower room. Reverse out.

3 - Get a load of towels for myself, and a load of hers for HRH.

4 - Undress and change from lecci chair to shower chair.

5 - Politely request HRH to jump on my lap (ouch, those nails need clipping).

6 - Wheel into shower room and politely request HRH to shift from my lap to the plastic chair.

7 - Remember that I've forgotten her shampoo, and have to reverse back to get it.

Stay HRH - don't move.

8 - Wheel back and realise that all the towels have fallen from the loo and are now on the floor.

9 - Pick up towels and put back on loo (next to the shower).

10 - Shower HRH.

Stay HRH - don't move.

And don't shake yourself either.

11 - Grab towel and throw over HRH.

12 - Grab more towels and put on lap.

13 - Politely request HRH to move from plastic chair onto my lap.

14 - Reverse out.

15 - Remember that I'd forgotten to put more towels on couch.

16 - Couch will dry.

17 - HRH happy to get on couch.

18 - Shift from chair to couch, and dry her off.

19 - Go back in shower to remove plastic chair.

20 - How many more instructions do you need?!!!

HRH's Diary

2006-05-15T10:51:00.000-07:00

9 am - Turn over and take up more of the bed.
10am - Now she's got herself up, do you think I should ask to go out?
11am - Nothing interesting going past at the moment, think I'll come in.
Noon - I think I'll ask to go out again.
1 pm - I think I'll come in again.
2 pm - Why is she asking if I want din-dins yet?
3 pm - I want my din-dins NOW.
3.10pm - I need to go out NOW.
3.20pm - That's better - let's see if I can reach the couch from here.
4 pm - I think I'll ask to go out again. And then come straight back in.
5 pm - I want din-din seconds.

And then out. In. As and when I fancy, making sure I always need to go out just when she is having something to eat.
Or she is on the phone.
Or she is plonking on that thing again.

.....until
.....after the "out" at around 7.30pm
.....when

It's
Bikkie time!

2006-05-15T10:48:00.000-07:00

Woof and tailwags to everyone. My human has been doing some strange things over the last few days. She decided that the nice soft thing that goes on the bed I allow her to share (she sleeps under it, I prefer to be on top) had to be taken off for the "summer".

Is that the word for when it is so hot that I have to keep moving from place to place on the stone floors to try and keep cool?

Well, it wasn't my fault that the big soft thing was draped over some chairs outside, was it? I thought it was there for me to use as a hammock. But my human wasn't too happy when I did.

Boy, does that human of mine get cross over such silly things.

Today was the day that she had to put that stuff on the back of my neck to stop the itchy things and blood sucking things keeping away. Don't tell anyone, but I am very pleased that she does such things, however, it doesn't stop me from the crying and "mummy, mummy, why are you doing such nasty things to me" sort of stuff.

Gotta keep making those humans feel guilty.

Hee hee hee. Wonder what else I can do to get my human all flustered again.....

Diaries

2006-05-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

Dog's Diary

7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favourite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favourite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favourite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favourite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mum! My favourite!
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favourite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favourite!
11pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favourite!

Cat's Diary

Day 483 of my captivity.....
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangly objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction that I get from clawing their furniture.
Tomorrow I will eat another houseplant.
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded - must try this at the top of the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse those vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I must remember to try this on their bed.
I decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear in their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was.

Hmmm, that did not work according to plan.....

There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was due to my powers of inducing "allergies". I must learn what this is and how I may use it to my advantage.
I am convinced that the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches.
The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured.
But I have patience, I can wait, it is only a matter of time.....

Dates, woman, check the date before you post!

2006-04-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

Whoops - I've gorn and done it again.

Haven't checked the date, and have no idea how to set it correctly.

I mean the last thing I posted was on 23 April and yet it shows as some time in January.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Lets see if I can get it right this time, but don't hold your breath waiting....!

Where was I?

2006-01-14T07:42:00.000-08:00

When I so rudely interrupted myself. Who knows. Who cares. I remember starting something about dropping things and giving up.

Well, I am still dropping things, and as far as giving up.....I did, I did, I did! I gave up smoking! I had (during just one day) dropped and broken three glass mugs and my last but one ashtray. Dropped my cigarettes and run over them (nothing new in that), and done the ame to my lighter. Twice.

So I stopped smoking.

Not that it has saved me any money, as my daughter and grandchildren are reaping the benefits.

Oh well, two more payments and The Rucker will be paid for in full!

What I did next.........................

2006-01-13T10:04:00.000-08:00

Well, I don't think it was my fault. Not really. Just sort of. You know what happens - you forget to do something correctly - or in the right place. Like forgetting to open a 1½ litre bottle of cola over the kitchen sink before you take it to where you want it.

That sort of thing. Perfectly normal memory lapse. Typical.

So, as I had been using the Monster at the time, I trundled back and put the bottle of cola on a shelf at my side until I wanted some. Which, of course I did. So I picked up the empty glass, and opened the bottle of cola to pour some out. As you do, you know.

And the bottle went WHOOSH. All over me. All over everywhere. And all over my week- old brand-new (bit of an oxymoron there I think) keyboard.

PANIC PANIC PANIC

Calm down. Turn keyboard over and hang it part way over table - thereby tipping the cola in it on my lap. Luckily it was diet cola, but that's besides the point. Second thing, move The Rucker away from the table. Third thing, get on the floor, with a torch between my teeth - move the Monster out so I can see it.

(All the time soaked in cola, and now sitting in a puddle of it)

Trace cable from now well drowned keyboard, and try to disconnect. And try again. And again. Third time lucky. Keyboard placed upside down on floor.

Go get a towel (or three) and then get mouse-eaten keyboard from top of cupboard. Oh yes, forgot to say it took me ages to get up from floor, remove soaked clothes, and get back on The Rucker. And then the whole performance in reverse.

(Pause for breath)

Where was I? Oh yes, back using the mouse eaten keyboard. Left the drowned one upside down on towels to dry out for a few days (sitting on top of the washing machine). And then re-connected it. And it typed shrudlu. A week old, and never called me Mother.

Phoned Effie - please buy me TWO new keyboards - and another computer mouse while you're at it, just in case..............................And waited until he had them (as they had to be ordered).

Sure enough, he turned up with the new keyboards (and two mouses but that's another story). "Where is the drowned keyboard?" Back in it's box on top of the cupboard. Duly brought down, and re-connected.

And, of course, it worked perfectly! Well it would, wouldn't it. So - now - in their boxes - in a large plastic bag - on top of the cubboard - are

One mouse-eaten but usable keyboard.

Two brand new keyboards.

And three computer mouses.

Unfortunately that isn't the end of the story.................................

Now he has to get me a new computer box because I smashed the front of the Monster when I ran into it on The Rucker....................

I killed The Monster!

2006-01-12T10:06:00.000-08:00

Either I am stupid, or I am stupid. See, last night we had thunderstorms, and SD does not like Bang Bangs. And the electric power kept going off. And, of course, my emergency lantern wasn't in the correct place................

SD jumped on my lap. I moved to plug emergency lantern in - and ran straight into The Monster, the huge stack under the table. And smashed the front in!

Oh woe, oh tragedy.

No computer!!!!! On button sort of squashed in - PANIC PANIC PANIC. Until I thought oh well, either I take the box to pieces (don't ask), or - err, what else?

Made a fist and thumped the front of the Monster, and lo and behold, my computer opened! And THIS is the person who kept saying "I don't want a computer. I don't need a computer" - and four hours without one I was going totally doolally?!

So then what did I do? Well, decided to post this, and was asked for password, and could I remember it? Could I heck. Couldn't remember if I was upside down or what by then. Hello, people, am I here or am I here?

And I still don't know if I will be able to post this or not.

Oh well, it's been a funny old day.

Again

The Large Green thing that was sitting in my bedroom

2005-11-27T16:05:00.000-08:00

It wasn't there when I finally surfaced, so imagine my surprise when I went to bed.

What on earth was it? It was about 36" long, and 40" in diameter. Covered in plastic, and propped up on my manual wheelchair. Sort of overlapping at the sides, as it was definitely fatter than I am. Sort of squidgy when squashed, and too heavy for me to lift.

And where did it come from, and how did it get there?

Ah - patience, patience (so I told myself) and all will be revealed.

Just wait.

Waiting over when my part-time carer turned up the next day. Oh, she said, that's your duvet. It was in the cupboard under your bed. (Was it? Who put it there?)

Tantrum from me. I don't WANT the duvet on the bed yet. I don't NEED the duvet on the bed yet. I will NOT have the duvet on the bed yet.

Very funny. As if I a choice in the matter. Well, I got my own way for a couple of days, when she carefully unwrapped it and put it out to air, and then it was on my bed, whether I liked it or not. Little does she know that it spends most of the night kicked off, with SD curled up on it!

Well, I'm not going to tell her, and SD won't tell her.

So please, people, don't tell her either!

The Attack of the Gremlins

2005-11-21T17:05:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure who they are. What they are. Or why they are here. But they are definitely around, doing their best to cause as much nuisance as possible. I can't see them. I can't hear them. And I don't know what they have done at the time.

So why is it that a few days later I discover something uninvited, unwanted, and totally unexpected?

Such as the time when I opened a cupboard to get something I KNOW I put there, I was promptly hit by dozens of empty plastic mayonnaise jars and empty plastic bottles, which I am convinced I never saved?

Where did they come from? No idea.

What were they doing there? No idea.

How did they get there? No idea.

Well, surely I couldn't have used THAT much mayonnaise or whatever came in those little bottles - could I? And If I had, why on earth were they all saved?

OK, assuming I did use that much whatever, I still have no idea why they were all saved. So then the problem was, what on earth was I going to do with them all? More to the point, how was I supposed to get around the place to pick them all up.

Sat. Thought. Oh yes, go get the nearest picker-upper and a large plastic bin bag and put them all in it.

F u n n y. Have YOU ever tried to pick up plastic jars and bottles with a picker-upper?

Two hours later..................

Everything picked up and in the bag. Now, Gremlins, I've finally beaten you. Or have I. Still got a large bag full of plastic jars and bottles, wondering what to do with them.

One hour later....................

Brilliant idea - phoned up a friend who works at the kindergarten down the road and asked if her little charges would like them. Bingo - almost as soon as I put the phone down, she was here, ready to collect the lot!

GOTCHA GREMLINS!!!!! Yah boo sucks.

But..........

I never DID find the things I was looking for in the first place.

THOSE PESKY CRITTERS ARE AT IT YET AGAIN...........................

2005-10-14T18:15:00.000-07:00

The mice, I mean. I couldn't understand how they got into my kitchen pedal bin - everytime I opened it one popped out. And then a while later, the pedal didn't work as the opening mechanism broke. Not knowing any better, I bought a new one. And the same thing happened.

The little blighters were not only going up the mechanism to get into the bins, but were eating their way through the plastic opening mechanism. Right, I thought, let's fox them with a different bin. A tall flip-top one that they can't get into.

Wanna make a bet?

They must have taken a flying leap from the kitchen base unit next to the bin and got in.

Question.

Once they got in, how on earth did they get out? No idea, but they did.

So, I bought a strong plastic dustbin shaped bin, with a close fitting lid - and they can't get into that one. And I doubt if they can eat through THAT. So far, so good. I hope.

Safe at last, I thought. Until I noticed tiny red crumbs on various kitchen surfaces. Strange, I thought. How did they get there, and where were they from? The mice have now taken a liking to red plastic, and are currently chombling their way through the plastic lids on the glass food jars in the kitchen. So far they have only nibbled the edges, and hopefully it will take a good while before the lids are ruined, and in anycase, jars and lids are easily replaceable.

What REALLY was the last straw though, was a couple of weeks ago. My monitor and my keyboard are well covered at night. Not a loose fitting plastic cover, and not just a piece of sheet draped over them, but well tucked in. The following morning, when I uncovered everything to read and then answer a load of emails, as soon as I touched the keyboard I realised something was VERY wrong. A number of keys felt very rough, and when I looked, they had been nibbled at the top and sides of the keys.

Sure, the keyboard worked OK, and there were no tell-tale signs of mouse droppings, but what else could have eaten my keys? An expensive 7 month old keyboard at that. Anyhow, it has now been replaced with a new keyboard, and both the monitor (a thin LSD one) and the keyboard are now covered tightly with pillowcases.

The chewed keyboard? I have kept it, as a spare, as it is still useable. However, I now also have a new, spare mouse (not a four-legged one!) just in case......................

The Rucker

2005-10-10T04:25:00.000-07:00

Having realised a few months ago that I could no longer cope with my manual wheelchair all the time, I applied to the Ministry of Health for an electric chair. Sure, they said. No problem, they said. We will supply you with an electric wheelchair.

But.....................................

I would have to take what they sent me, and the size the physiotherapist considered suitable.

No way.

I had the same problem with my manual chair as the physio said I needed one with a 40cm seat width, whereas I knew that 40cm was too wide, and I wanted a chair with a 35cm wide seat. So I bought the chair I wanted and the supplier wrote on the invoice and receipt that he had supplied a chair with a 40cm wide seat, and the Ministry of Health duly paid the full amount.

Even though I have had the front door frame and door replaced, with an outside opening door, a 40cm chair would hardly go through it, let alone go through any other doorways in my bungalow, which has had all the doors removed.

So I bought my own electric wheelchair. The same make and model as my manual chair, but the heavier model, necessary for the additional weight of the back wheels, the motors for each back wheel, plus the two batteries. The chair is also foldable, as the batteries can be easily removed. It's not just an indoor chair, but also an outdoor one, and copes with my steepish ramp/path with no problem. Very useful for taking the rubbish out!

The best thing, is that the specially made and formed seat and back rest that I had made for my manual chair, also fits on the electric one. And the company which supplied the electric chair, took my manual chair and replaced the back wheels with the ones I had originally wanted but couldn't get (not the same company which supplied the manual chair) - so instead of bicycle type spokes (which used to snag my nails) and slippery hand grips (which used to cause blisters on my fingers), I now have wheels with wide plastic racing type spokes, and non-slip hand grips. No charge. (The original wheels are now in The Shack, together with Bronco, my bit 4-wheel electric vehicle). The Shack being the special lean-to store room I had built onto the side of the bungalow.

Why do I call it The Rucker? Because in spite of metres of wide, sticky-back velcro, when I reverse it away from my computer, it STILL rucks up the carpet. If I didn't appreciate and need it so much, I would give it a far worse name!

IF ANYONE HAS ANY BRIGHT IDEAS.........

2005-09-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

I would be very grateful if someone out there has any bright idea as to how to get new posts to actually appear on my Blog. The last one actually showing was posted at the beginning of May this year.

Since then, NOTHING that I have posted has appeared on my blog, and I am beginning to wonder whether I should just give up on it.

I have been assured by Blogger Support that THEY can read my latest posts - well, if they can, but no-one else can, including myselt, I just cannot see the point in trying to post again. This blog is not just for Blogger Support to read - I would actually like to be able to read it myself, and for my friends to be able to read it.

Any ideas gratefully received. Thank you.

I THINK I HAVE LOST THE PLOT AGAIN

2005-09-27T01:38:00.000-07:00

Or maybe not. Let's try again...................................

AT LAST

2005-09-27T01:35:00.000-07:00

Having lost this blog for months, I have finally been able to find it so am going to see if I can actually post anything on it!

2005-09-26T15:46:00.000-07:00

Or maybe not. Let's try again...................................

Wot, no water?

2005-05-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

OK, so I don't surface that early, but this morning there seemed to be an unsually large number of cars going to the macolet across the road. Opened the shutters to have a look, and everyone was lugging out cartons of - what? - to their cars. I soon found out when I went to the loo. The water was off. Again. The macolet rapidly sold out their stock of bottled, and the usual panic was on. Again. Not that it bothered me, as I have a water machine and get two (or more) 20 litre bottles delivered every four weeks. And at other times if I need extra water.

The water eventually came on about 3.30pm and was I pleased to be able to flush the loo! The fact that I had needed to use a load of bleach each time the loo was used is beside the point - but then again, I don't know what stank worse, the un-flushed loo or the bleach. Small Dog doesn't care - after all I put bottled mineral water in her bowl the reasoning being is that I won't drink tap water, neither should she.
There is NOTHING wrong with the water here - when it is on, but I'm allergic to the purifying stuff the Water Company puts in it. I can smell chlorine a mile away, let alone taste it.

This time I was lucky - last time the water went off my washing machine was half way through a wash. And the time before that? I was in the middle of a shower, covered in lovely scented bubbles..............and no water to rinse them off. Icky.

THEY ARE AT IT AGAIN

2005-05-02T09:42:00.000-07:00

The mice, I mean. I always keep a notebook and two pens beside my computer. Ditto by the side of my recliner, and ditto by the fax. Oh yes, and one pen and small notebook hanging on a hook at the side of my fridge to use as a shopping list, and of course I keep a pen in my bag with the current shopping list when I go out so I can tick off each thing when bought. So why do I reach for a pen and there isn't one, let alone two, where they should be? Fair enough, I frequently drop things but know when and where, and can usually pick them up immediately with my picker-upperer. And I ALWAYS put things where they are supposed to be.

Pens - I buy them by the dozen, make sure the spare ones are kept in a drawer with various other necessities, ie staple refills, extra sellotape - etc. When a pen runs out of ink, it gets chucked in the bin and a new one added. So where to all the missing ones go? After finding one by the side of the toilet - and what would I need a pen there for, and another sticking out from under the washing machine, it must have been those pesky critters at it yet again!

Losing the odd pen (or three) isn't really that important after all. It was the sock that really had me in fits of laughter. I had just taken a load of washing out of the dryer when someone knocked and the door AND the phone rang. After finishing with the visitor and the phone call, I took the basket of dry clothes into my bedroom to put everything away. And a sock was missing. I know it went into the washing machine and then into the dryer, so where was it? Checked the dryer - empty. Ditto the washing machine.

I did find it eventually, half way down one of the mouseholes which they always manage to re-open, even though at one stage the hole was blocked with a handful of concrete that the guy who was building my outside ramp brought in and pushed into the hole.

Since when did mice need socks?

The Sewing Box Saga

2005-04-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

When I was in my teens, many years ago, Mother bought herself a new sewing box, and one for me. A pink plastic box, with louvered shelves. I kept mine for nearly 50 years and it went with me during countless moves. About a year ago it started falling to pieces - first one, then another of the hinges broke. So I decided it was time to send it to the big sewing box in the sky, and bought a small plastic tool box to use in its place. The original sewing box came with a little leather needle folder, which is still in one piece - can't remember if the box came with anything else.

Anyhow, the first visit my twin made after she had moved to the United States, she brought for me a load of reels of sewing thread in every colour imaginable. Why? Well, in one of the stores where she lived there was a special offer - a dozen reels for one dollar. I think she got maybe two dozen for me, which included 3 or 4 black, and the same white. In all the years since then, I am down to just 2 black and 2 white, and even though some of the others are getting rather low in thread, I still have the others with years of thread left. More than enough to last for another lifetime, and I've never had to buy any sewing thread since.

Not that I make clothes any more, haven't for years, but I always made my own curtains, and even fitted covers for furniture. In any case, my daughter made off with my sewing machine a few years ago, but no way would I part with my sewing box. I don't think my daughter ever sewed but she wanted my machine, and I haven't a clue what she did with it. Funny things, habits. If I have to throw out clothes that are not good enough to pass on, I always remove the buttons and zips, and keep them. Some times when I've bought a blouse or something which has buttons I don't like, I'll buy a pack of nice buttons. Usually the pack has more than I need, so the spare ones go in my button box with all the other buttons.

Sewing thread, buttons, zips, packs of needles, packs of elastic in various widths (black and white), various sizes of press studs and hooks and eyes, who knows when I might need them, but when I do, it's nice to know that I have them. I might not be able to do much these days, but can and still sew on a button, replace a zip, and repair hems and minor tears.

Old habits never die.

How to ignore things and keep sane at the same time.

2005-04-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

Well, any suggestions people? It started with Google, who decided to change their format, and stated that I had to log-in to search anything. And then informed me that my e-mail address did NOT exist. Tried to put in a new application. Same response. So I gave in, and sent e-mails to all the addys of all the whatevers on Google. From my e-mail addy, which they kept telling me didn't exist.

Guess what, they e-mailed me back, AT THE E-MAIL ADDRESS THEY SAID DIDN'T EXIST.

Duh?

Took them a couple of hours to see sense, and finally all was OK. And, best of all, they have reverted to their previous format, or whatever it is called. But it not only took me hours to get that sorted out, but also meant that the Group I have been a member of for the last few weeks, thought I was no longer a member "because Google told them I didn't exist".

Eventually got that sorted out, without too much trouble. The one good thing that came out of it was that I'm now able to IM with people in the Group,if wanted and agreed, as well as our usual postings on the site. Trouble is that I ended up yesterday evening IM chatting to the Moderator of our Group who, living 8 hours before time here, doesn't get on line until evening. Yet another evening missing my regular stupid TV programmes.

Then, this morning, had a bit of a yell at the Company who deliver the large bottles of mineral water for my water machine. It rarely happens, but today was one of those times. The delivery guy didn't turn up at the agreed time. Waited an hour. Then another hour. And then phoned. Usual response - sorry, he's on Miluim and the the replacement driver is running a bit late............

How come, on the maybe once a year I have to call the water Company with problems, I always get the same response? It isn't the same driver - they tend to change days, times, and drivers every so ofter, but whatever day, whatever time, whichever driver, if something goes wrong, it is ALWAYS "sorry, he's on Miluim".

The Little White Plastic Thingy

2005-04-17T11:55:00.000-07:00

I have three proper toolboxes. A large one for large things. A medium on for things too small to go in the big one but seem to need a box of their own. And a small one for - guess what - small things. I also have a special box with compartments for all sizes of nails, screws, hooks, etc. Why? Well, who knows when I might need a nail for this, a tack for that, a srew here, one there - etc.

But I have a habit of finding little things around the house, so put them all in a container until I either find out what they are for, or give up and chuck them out. At which point I then discover what there were for and I should have kept them. Typical.

Some months ago I found a small, white, plastic thingy. Hadn't a clue what it was from or what it was, or why it was on my kitchen floot. Forward wind a couple of months and I realised that it actually belonged to one of the plastic bulldog-type magnet clips on my fridge door. Went to fish it out of the odds and sods container - and it wasn't there. Except I KNOW I put it there.

Forward wind until yesterday, when I put a foot on my bedroom floor carpet during the long process of getting out of bed and into my wheelchair. Ouch, that hurt. No guesses as to what it was. The little white plastic thingy. Only one question. How did it get from a fairly deep container in one room, onto my bedroom rug?

Only one answer. Those diabolical mice had been it again.

Again? I also found the button that had fallen off my housecoat, and couldn't find anywhere. Where did I find it? Well, Small Dog did her usual "I see a mouse and I'm going to chase it" and as the mouse disappeared behind the rubbish bin in the kitchen lo and behold IT DROPPED THE BUTTON!

VITAMINS and all that JAZZ

2005-04-12T13:17:00.000-07:00

I can't remember exactly when, but my (then) doctor suggested that "elderly" people really should think about taking a multi-vitamin/mineral supplement. Elderly? To hell with what my birth certificate says, as far as I am concerned I am only 29. Again. But, as I didn't want to offend him, I checked the local drug stores and looked into the numerous multi-vits available. Being rather confused by the multitude of the miriads of makes, and prices, I asked the pharmacist for a bit of advice.

Oh well, she said, this is the one that everyone buys. Oh yeah? So I asked what was the difference. Nothing. They are all the same, but most people think that the more expensive, the better it must be. But they are all the same. You pay your money, you get what you want. Better or not, they are all the same.

Out with my magnifying glass to check what was in everything and in what quantity. And realised that they ALL had the same things, in the same quantities. And guess what, the one that cost the least, has exactly the same as the one other people feel that they need to spend nearly four times as much on. Unfortunately, when I went to buy a second bottle of the least expensive vits, there weren't any. Luckily, the bottle I had first bought had the telephone number of the importers/supplier. So I phoned them. Well, wouldn't you?

Ever since then I have never bought any multivits, or any additional supplements that my current doctor recomments, from anywhere but directly by phone from the lovely people in the Health Food Store who were so nice when I first called them. I've never met them, never seen their store - I know they have a big warehouse and supply a lot of other Health Food stores with the products they import. I also know that there have a lot of private customers who, like me, only buy from them via phone calls. And for those of us who do, we get a special discount, which can be as much as 50% of their shelf prices. Not only that, but because they keep computer records on their regular phone customers and what we buy, whenever they have extra special offers, as soon as I phone they know exactly what I want and what special offers they have on my needs.

I'm not really lazy, but isn't it nice to be able to just pick up the phone and know that what is wanted will be here the following day.

GUESS WHO IS NOW ON A DIET

2005-04-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

With three months to go before Small Dog's yearly check-up, I was already dreading what her Vet would say when she got on the scales to be weighed. Not that she eats much - in fact she eats very little for her size, and definitely no "I want some of your food" when I eat. She learned early on that my food is MY food. However, two years ago her weight had gone up 700 grammes from the previous year and did I get told off. No doubt it was because she doesn't get enough exercise, although no way was she fat. Not even tubby, and her spine and ribs were easily felt. Last year her weight was down by 400 grammes, to a reasonable 7 kilos, which is fine.

But, at 7 years old now, I know that she really shouldn't get any heavier. The only problem is that I can't weigh her. Sure - get on the bathroom scales and weigh myself and then pick her up and weigh both of us - deduct one from the other, but the only problem is that I can't see the stupid scales to read what weight they register. And I did have the feeling that she was getting a bit heavier.

So, the last time I phoned Yehuda to bring some food for her, I asked if he had any diet food. Not geriatric food - just diet food. Dry food, as that is what she has always had. That was about three weeks ago, and guess what, Lexie loves the stuff. She does't even demand the previously usual teaspoon of chicken soup on it, and in fact is satisfied with even less than the small amount she used to need.

Has she lost weight? I'm pretty sure she has. She certainly feels a bit lighter, and is as bouncy as ever. I still can't pick her up, but then with my lousy arms I can't pick much up, but when she takes a flying leap onto my lap at least it doesn't make me yelp as much as it used to. Mind you, she still insists on taking up most of the bed, and is difficult to shift when I politely request her to move so that I can get up!

Oh Lexie, love of my life, what wouldn't I do for you?

Oh how I hate to get up in the morning

2005-04-08T11:39:00.000-07:00

Not always, but sometimes I really want to stay in bed for just another minute. Or two. Or three. Small Dog is quite happy to wait until I finally surface, unless something outside convinvces her that she should rush into the salon, leap onto the chair by the window, and make her feelings well and truly heard. At which point I either have to call her and ask her to please be quiet, or just get up. As most of the television programmes that I really want to watch are on late in the evenings, I frequently don't get to bed until quite late.

What a change from when I was able to work. Then, I had to get up at 4.30am to catch the first of the six buses everyday - three in the morning, three after I finished work, and frequently didn't get home until it was almost time to go to bed. No time to watch TV. In fact no time to do anything. Needless to say, Small Dog wasn't around then, in fact I never even contemplated having a four-legged companion.

Maybe I'm just being lazy, but bad nights are sometimes only too frequent, so a good night is something to be treasured. The only problem is my "little sister" next door. If she doesn't see my bedroom shutters open by what she thinks is a reasonable hour, she phones to make sure I'm ok. When I first moved into this house, nearly four and a half years ago, it took me ages to convince her that if she doesn't see that I'm up at what is, to her, a "normal" time, not to worry. As long as it's no later than 10am. Usually I am up well before then, but the other day Lexie and I didn't surface until nearly 10.30am and I think poor Malka was on the point of getting someone to break my front door open!

Well, it wasn't my fault that all the phone lines were down and she couldn't call me was it? Ah, but isn't it nice to know that people care.

TWO STEPS FORWARD, ONE STEP BACK,

2005-04-06T11:21:00.000-07:00

Just when it seems that I have finally sorted out various problems, something else turns up. One thing goes wrong. Get it fixed. And then something else decides to hit me. However, being a stubborn person I refuse to give in. If it doesn't work the first time, I try to do it again. And again. And yet again. It really does at times seem as if for every step forward I end up on the floor!

It's been a funny old day. Small Dog managed to get herself tangled up having squeezed into a corner that she couldn't get out of, and ended up with me having to drag her out backwards by her tail. Luckily she has a very good nature, and apart from a couple of yelps, she forgave me and jumped on my lap for a cuddle. Mind you, by the time she was untangled, I wasn't just on the floor, but was flat on my back. As we were both on the patio outside at the time, when she jumped on my lap it was extremely difficult for us both to get up! Luckily no-one was walking past at the time.

Most of the time it takes a lot to annoy or frustrate me, but when something does - I do tend to blow my top. Not often, and only for a few minutes, but I just can't stand stupidity, inefficiancy, and sheer disregard for peoples' feelings and/or destruction of peoples property. Just as I dislike the fact that too many people don't seem to know the words "please" and "thank you". Maybe that's because that was the way that I grew up and the way I taught my children.

One thing that is really a nuisance is the fact that one of the local Banks (not my Bank) just doesn't seem to realize that my fax line, which is on a separate phone line and not the line used for regular phone calls, isn't the fax number for some of their customers. I have phoned them numerous times but still get faxes from them that aren't for me. Each time I tell them they seem to listen, but at least once a week they send faxes to my fax line that isn't for me. I don't blow my top, but after the latest one I informed them that in future I had no intention of telling them that they had made a mistake yet again. Their response? It won't happen again. Oh yeah? I'll believe it when I see (or rather don't) it. But I can't help feeling sorry for the people who are supposed to get the faxes and are no doubt STILL waiting for them, while their Bank keep re-sending the faxes to me. I used to send the faxes back to the Bank, saying "this is not for me", but I just tear them up now. The faxes, I mean.

My regular phone line is unregistered. My fax line is, for the simple reason that I don't see why I should pay for it to be unregistered. Now I keep the ringer on my fax machine permanently off. Not because of the Bank, but someone kept calling me on that number every morning at a time when I am still in bed. It rang twice before the fax machine took over, but still disturbed me. The phone company promised to do a trace on that line and stop the nuisance calls. Maybe they have. Maybe they haven't but at least with the ringer off I'm not disturbed any more.

Still, wouldn't life be boring if there was nothing to complain about!

IS IT ME or am I just being paranoic

2005-04-05T14:27:00.000-07:00

On second thoughts, paranoia isn't really my thing. The fact that the bin men always chuck my wheelie bin wherever they feel like it - sometimes half way down my ramp/path, and sometimes on its' side down the steep slope of my front yard, shouldn't really be that surprising. They do it to everyone. Maybe not to such a degree, as my house IS set quite low down from the pavement, and my ramp is the only one around, but those bin men just can't be bothered to think. What on earth do they think a ramp is for? If the bin isn't half way down the ramp, it blocks the top of it.

They know what the ramp is for - I've told them time after time. They know that I am disabled and that the ramp is for my wheelchair and/or my electric vehicles. The little one, Tonto, and the big one, Bronco. I supposeI should count myself lucky in that the bin men do turn up twice a week, as they should do, even though at times they turn up at 3am and wake me up, instead of their usual time of about 9am.

I'm just a bit p'd off because my wheelie bin is MY wheelie bin. Until a few months ago I used to share a bin with my neighbour, bins only being supplied by the local authority to one "plot" however many houses are actually on that bit of land. My neighbour and I both live at #7, even though we live in separate houses. Being a bit fed up of our shared bin not being convenient for me, I bought my own bin from the local authority. So it is MY bin, and it SHOULD be where I want it.

Oh well, at least it isn't always too full of other peoples' garbage for me to put mine in. But why, oh why, can't the bin men respect it?

TWINS versus SINGLETONS

2005-03-29T16:27:00.000-08:00

You know what they say - once a twin, always a twin. Whether identical or fraternal, twins are twins. Whether they get on or not, they are still twins. Something singletons can never really understand.

A twin can never talk about "when I was/did/etc, or where, I was/did/where and when" because there never was an "I" - it was always "we". "We" did this, or that, and "we" were wherever "we" is as natural to us as our mother tongue. It is impossible for us to imagine being a singleton, and however old we get, it is totally impossible for us to say "I" was/did/etc.

I am a twin. My twin sister and I are not identical, we are fraternal twins. We have never even looked like sisters let alone twins but people could never remember which name went with which face, so we grew up answering to either name. We didn't mind so much when we were young, but it could, and did, get rather embarrassing when it still sometimes happened when we were well into our adulthood. Especially when, years after my twin and her family had moved to the States and I was still living in the same area where we grew up.

There I was, strolling along the High Street, with my daughter walking beside me and my son in his buggy, when a shrill voice screeched out my twins' name. Automatically I turned round, even though I knew someone had made the same old mistake. "Mummy" said my daughter, "I thought your name was Gill - doesn't that name belong to our auntie? Well, how could I explain to a four-year old that some people think that twins both have the same name to some people?

We always blamed it on our parents, who insisted that they didn't realise the implications when they named us. My twin, who was born one hour before I arrived, was named Jaqueline, and I was named Gillian. When we were teenagers, she only acknowledged the name Jackie, and I gave up the last three letters of my name. So, we ended up as (sort of) Jack and Jill, even though I spell my name with a G not a J but the people who couldn't remember which name went with each face, still called us by our full names.

We were dressed identically, albeit in different colours, but that was because our mother used to make all our clothes. However, we reckon we were luckier that real identical twins. When my son was at primary school, there were two boys who WERE identical. And wearing school uniform, it was impossible for the teachers to know which was which. Their mother refused to let them wear name tags, and the poor boys used to get extremely frustrated being called by the wrong name.

Twins - who would want to be a singleton. Not us, that's for sure.

TO WHOM IT MAY APPLY

2005-03-26T13:10:00.000-08:00

1. The name TEADRINKER no longer applies and should be ignored by everyone.

2. The name BERGADIAN is a registered trademark name and has been for over 30 years, and stil continues to be.

3. Anyhow trying to use the name BERGADIAN for whatever reason, other than the registered owner of that trademark name, is liable to prosecution.

4. Legal advice has been taken and legal action WILL be taken against any and all persons using the registered name BERGADIAN.

5. Any and all complaints regarding the above should be addressed to my lawyer.

6. With regard to the unlicenced use of the name BERGADIAN, it is suggested that they contact the Kennel Club of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to confirm that the name is an officially, registered trademark name.

Warning

2005-03-25T18:23:00.000-08:00

Having been unfairly accused by Purplegimp of having deleted various posts of hers, I have to make the following comments:

1 - I wouldn't have know how to do such a thing.

2 - I wouldn't have done so even if I HAD known how - which I did NOT.

3 - If Purplegimp even thinks about deleting or fouling up anything on MY OWN BLOG, let
alone tries to do so, then believe me, it won't be my head that is rolling on the ground.

4 - As of now, I have NO connection with Purplegimp or any of her insanities.

MAYBE THIS TIME............................

2005-03-25T12:21:00.000-08:00

Talk about trying to run before I can walk. Less than a month after the Monster came into my life, I think that I finally have my very own Blog. I think. Well, I know I have, but whether I can actually post it or not has yet to be realized. As of now, I can't even get the template that I want and if I have to go to Help one more time, I think I will just give up. On second thoughts, maybe I'll try one more time, and maybe this time..............................

Hey, guess what, people. I did, and IT did, but I'm still not sure what I did right or what I did wrong. I guess that is meant by trial and error.

In the meantime, by the time I discovered that the anti-spam programme I had subscibed to had decided that 60 of my incoming messages were spam, which they weren't, and promptly de-activated that programme, I had to plough through all those messages, decide which I wanted and which I didn't - and then send apologetic messages to all the people who had been frantically sending messages asking where I was, was I OK, etc. All now done, I think, and maybe next time.................

Very clever things, these computers. So, for all those people to whom I kept saying that I didn't want a computer. I didn't need a computer. Well, you were right and I was wrong. Maybe I didn't need or want one, but you all said I would really enjoy being able to get into the outside world, and oh boy, am I enjoying it!

Sincere apologies to you all. I am having such fun!!!