tweeter twit

I have taken a step outside incipient dementia and tweeted.  While the child of my loins thinks that I have not kept up with technology I have shown her just how 'up to date and modern' I actually am.  Yes folks I have a twitter account and I am indeed a modern woman.  I can tweet with the best of the twitterers (or some such thing.)  Twit, tweet............I am sure you know the drill.  One thing I know, tweets are not the thing Miley Cyrus is doing in her film clip.

Because I have been such a good girl I have bought myself a little Chrissy present.  It is a new mobile and I have been setting it up to suit me.  Although there are many many buttons and apps I am working my way through them and by Christmas the phone will be my slave.   The phone came with a disc which I downloaded onto my computer and tomorrow I will download my music from the computer onto the phone. When I have done that I will be the grandmaster/mistress of twenty-first century technology.

Before I go overboard on the whole you beaut technology route, I must also say that I am getting a second- hand ipad this year.  The child of my loins is giving it to me and I am sure she is just waiting for me to flounder around but I have managed to tweet, managed to set up my mobile so the ipad will be an absolute snap.

I am curious about everything and always want to see what is coming next and if I can learn something new every day I am very very happy.

So child put that in your tweet and smoke it.

P.S.  Putting music on the mobile was not as easy this time.  I am still fighting with the silly thing.  What it did last time is not what it wants to do this time.   Arrggghhh technology sucks.

Such a little book

I have talked to people who told me they have never read a book and are apparently quite happy to boast of it.  One of my friends at TAFE was not a reader until I lent her my copy of "The Wind in the Willows".  She said she had never realized what a joy reading could be.  (I do believe that she didn't give it back but no matter I had introduced her to reading and reading engaged her for the rest of her days.)

As a child my favourite presents were books.  Mum read them to me and while I could not read them myself I looked at the pictures and tried to imagine what the words meant.  I actually couldn't read myself until I was about eight.  After that I read everything from the News to the Reader's Digest and the Chronicle.

When my mother was working in Port Augusta she became very ill and was out of work.  We literally had no money.  We lived in a leaky caravan and dined on Weeties every day.  Once Mum got some kind of compensation from the Government I suppose, we had the money to pay for the rental of the van and some for actual food and most wonderfully threepence to buy me a book.  It was Henny Penny and the Sky is Falling.  It was a little book with a soft cover and inside it lived not only the said Henny Penny but Goosey Lucy and Ducky Lucky and all their friends.  Mum read the book to me many times and eventually I began to read it to myself.  I could not have been given anything that would mean so much to me as that small book. Even after all these years I remember how I loved that story from a threepenny book that meant the world to me.

No-one is reading my blog.

No-one is reading my blog.  Think about it, I may have some sage advice or a helpful hint but how would you know.  If you don't read my gems of wisdom you will not learn anything.

READ THE DAMN BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How Henrietta Rose has trained me

I thought I had a deal with Henny.  Obviously that was an error. During the day Hen has to ask to go out when she wants to pee etc but at night she is welcome to pee etc on the floor in the bathroom.  It is easy to pick up the parcels and wash away the pee so there are no recriminations.  

That was the deal, however, Hen has a way of getting around deals.  She believes that she gives me sufficient notice of an impending urination or bowel movement and that if I don't take the hint she will pee or poo in the bedrooms.  That is how she punishes me for stupidity.

She does speak English so when I ask her if she wants to go out and she doesn't, there is no great excitement on her part.  If I ask her is she is hungry and she bounces around and brims over with joy then she is indeed hungry.

I am at a loss.  I really don't mind that Hen has an accident late at night because I have no great wish to go out at 11pm.  I also have no problem is there is a mistake in the morning when she tries in vain to wake me up and I don't.  I do however, get angry when she has been asked if she wants to go out and she doesn't and then pees or poos.

So while Hen speaks English I do not always speak dog.  The fault of course is mine.  I take all the blame because I am a human adult and she is a tiny little 2.7kg puppy.  It is up to me to de-code Henny speak.  I will try to do better in future.

Opti-fast and me

Hooray I have lost 2.5kg in a couple of weeks.  I love opti-fast.

I still have about nine weeks until Christmas so I am hoping for the best.

My friend and I had coffee at the Donut King at Munno Para and amazing as it may seem I did not partake of the donuts.  She tried to get me to eat them stating that two donuts once a fortnight would not matter.  I of course know that they damn well do matter.  I have no intention of trying to eat sensibly at home and then derailing myself at the shops.

I also have no bread in the house.  Bread is my biggest downfall so my home is totally bread-less from now on.

I just had a thought I have lost the same amount of weight that my little dog weighs.  So I have lost one dog. I am going to use dog weight instead of kilos from now on.  That makes perfect sense to me.  Hopefully by Christmas I will have lost about five dogs.

I will keep everyone informed about my dog weight challenge.  Stay tuned.

Senility

You cannot ring up with the tv remote control.

You cannot answer your glass of water.

You cannot hang up your glass of water.......simple hint....drink the water...answer/hang up the phone.

Leave a sign to tell you what to do.

Make another sign to tell you what the first sign meant.

Make another sign to tell you where to look for the other two signs.

Write this sign in English..... English, you know the language you speak....... English you speak it............right??????

You cannot put the milk frothing machine in the fridge.

You cannot get the cat dry out and think it will make really nice cereal........it doesn't.

You don't have to start the car when you just started it.

You must not have a passenger/witness in the car when you start it twice.

Above all do not under pain of death try to get money out of your ATM with your driver's licence.

In reality, you are considered much less senile if no-one witnesses any of the above.

One thing you can do is go to bed when you want to.............................and get up whenever!

A weighty issue

Somehow the little bits of weight that I have put on have turned into an enormous stomach.  I look like the creature that ate Cushie.  I am extremely embarrassed about my huge belly.  I am tending to try to hold my stomach in (believe me this does not work) all the time.  I try not to eat in public because I feel like people are waiting for me to burst whilst they work out the number of calories I am consuming with gusto.  I have persuaded myself into thinking that donuts consumed outside the shops have no calories.  I eat them crouched down in my car seat and trying to shield the Donut King bag in my lap.  Well let's face it I don't really have a lap.

I am worried that I will have to ask for an extension seat belt in the plane at Christmas time, so I have taken some steps in my weight gain/loss saga.  I bought a box of Optifast.  I was terribly saddened to find out that they do not make you less hungry.  The other problem is that they are expensive.  If I had three a day they would only last for four days.  Piffle.  I hate being fat but I also hate having to cut out starchy foods.  I want to eat bread and bread and bread and biscuits and ice-cream and in fact every fattening thing known to man/woman.

I was a skinny baby, a skinny toddler and a skinny school girl.  Just before I got married in 1967 I started taking the pill. The pill had an unfortunate effect on me and I became incredibly hungry so I managed to put on a stone in a month.  I couldn't get into or out of my clothes.  I have slowly put on more and more weight since then.  As this is my sixtieth decade I am sure you can imagine just how extremely obese I am.  Don't get me wrong I am still able to walk and get up and down off my chair and the bed but my centre of gravity has markedly altered.

My trips to the physio are suspended.  He always wants me to turn over which exposes my immense belly.  I hate it since he is beautiful and slim.  The doctor always looks at me and suggests things like that disgusting word "WALKING."  I have no get up and go, that has got up and gone.  I need a person to bash on the door and force me to come out and walk. I think about walking but it never goes beyond that.

I would like a miracle drug to take every night so that in the morning I have lost a kilo.  Why doesn't someone invent that I say?  So as we say farewell picture my huge tummy wobbling like a jelly and finally ingesting the whole Cushie and forming some other type of life form, 'The Blob'.

The scales and me

My scales are screwing with my brain.  They have been telling me I have lost about 2kg.   Today they went back on up.  I was so pissed off I ate something.

What the ................?

I was watching the magician the Great Consentino getting ready to perform an escape.  I was talking to my friend on the phone and said, "As if anyone wants to watch him take his shirt off."  I then remarked, "Let me put my specs on though."

Who's who

One of the news bulletins showed dignitaries arriving at a Naval display.  The news reader said, here is the Governor General and his wife.

Weelll the Governor's name is Quentin which is a possible explanation for the mistake, however Quentin is a woman.  We have a lady Governor General here in Australia.

You would think that newsrooms would know exactly what dignitaries names are wouldn't you?

It's all in the name

While I am used to mistakenly trying to use my driver's licence to take money out of an atm, today I tried to use a Woolies card in the serve yourself in K-mart.  The machine then haemorraged and the lady had to come and press all sorts of buttons to make the machine work again.  I used my card again causing another haemorrage and was caught by said lady who informed me what I needed to have was a flybys card.  Silly me.  I am sure she thought that I suffer from dementia.  Actually it is possible that this is the case.

Deaf

The other day I was driving my friend to the local shops.  It was the weekend so I drove past the school and approached the child care centre when my friend said, "horticasia".  She repeated it while pondered on what exactly the word meant.  Anything with horti at the beginning means something about gardens.  I was happily cogitating on exactly which part of a garden centre I would have to go to find a plant called horticasia when my friend said, "You weren't lookin at the sign."  What sign?  "The one that says 40ks here".

Deaf maybe, but I do live in a magical world of confusion and that in itself is not such a bad thing.

appointments

Ok now I am really going batty or doo-lally as some of my English friends say.  Today I got up, had my shower and did not put on deodorant.  I was having a boob squash and of course could not use deodorant. So up I got, did all that was needed in the house and then drove leisurely down to Elizabeth to the Breast Screen clinic.  Once I was there I had to fill out a form about my boobs.  The paper contained lots of questions but no-where on the form did it ask, "Have you come on the right day"?

I thought that the lady was taking a long time to process my form plus she looked a little confused.  There I was there champing at the bit wanting to have my boobs squished to A4 size. However, it is no good going to the clinic four days before your appointment.  Unlike me the lady being of sound mind could not see any appointment for me today or even tomorrow.  I have to go back on Monday.  I have just added to my note on the fridge the correct day.  I had the time right though!

It appears to me that I thoroughly confuse most people.  Every now and then I do know what I am doing but mostly I am mistaken, confused, vague, forgetful and let's face it, down right dopey.  My friends never know if I am fully cognizant about what I am doing or not.  Whether or not I function or not is a sort of lottery. If there enough oxygen going to my brain I may be relied upon to turn up for appointments, make toast and coffee at the same time, multi-task in any way shape or form.  If the oxygen is lacking then chaos ensues.

So on Monday I will turn up again to have boob squashing done.  I have a note on the fridge plus I have told my friends to ring me and confirm that I do have the appointment.  Of course I know when I set all this in motion that I will get mad at everyone for nagging me.

Monday 2nd September, Boob Squashing Appointment.

Ooh and it is Father's Day on the 1st.  Not that I have a dad but just in case someone needs reminding.

chicken in a basket

Oh well I guess it is certain that my mental faculties are in a sharp decline.  However, why would I put a bag of chicken drumsticks into a basket containing my calendar and paid and unpaid bills?

I decided to have a bit of a tidy up as I am wont to do sometimes.  Usually this means that everything I need is thrown away or put somewhere safe.  Once gone from the basket there is no hope of me ever finding it again.

I had noticed that there was a smell in the house and put it down to the dog or cat.  I crawled around on the floor checking for sneaky dog poo.  I also changed the cat litter tray. I searched low which of course was the problem.  At some stage during my mad tidying efforts I put the bill basket high on top of the fridge so I could have space on the counter.  Next time I must remember to search low and high.

Needless to say the smell was issuing from the basket because I had thoughtfully added the bag of chicken drumsticks.  I estimate that the chicken had been in the basket from one weekend to the next.  I had to bag it up in three bags before I could dispose of it in the bin.

I am trying to understand why I put the meat in a basket instead of the fridge.  Was I thinking at all about exactly what I was doing?  I really think that I am on automatic pilot and thought does not come into the equation. Where I could once operate on several levels at the same time, I am now forced to concentrate on just one thing.  Therefore, I should have put the chicken in the freezer and the basket on the fridge.

I think that this is commensurate with my putting the tea towel on top of the toaster while I was making toast. I absolutely need to say to myself, "One thing at a time, one thing at a time, one thing, one thing, one..........one...................".

Stage fright and Goers Gals

After appearing on Peter Goers show as one of Goers Gals I have realized that I have a great head for radio. I spend two weeks feeling sick because I am going on air and then on the day practically vomiting with nerves.  Peter rings up to give the topics about 5 o'clock.  That way I have about an hour to work out what I am going to say.

A swift tot of alcohol would do me the world of good but not just before driving.  It would be my luck to get pulled over for a random breath test.  I drive circumspectly and arrive at the exact moment I am supposed to.

Once again the thorn between two roses I added little.  Lady Neil sat on my left and the first woman ordained in the Church of England on the other.  I added little to the discussion.  I was incredibly shy, but on the way home I thought of excellent answers to Peter's questions.

I would love to be the smart, funny and amazingly talented person.  I would love to give the best and most well thought out answers but my best work appears to be in hindsight. If I could be interviews in my car on the way home.  Yep that's it.  In the car.  Mmmmm.

   

What the.........?

Nine News announced tonight that the new wetlands at Oaklands Park are not finished because of rain.  I say again "What the................?"

National Nine News first for comedy.

Politics is all about eyebrows

Actually I have a theory, it has a lot of poetic licence but the theory is thus:-

Politics is all about eyebrows.  Bob Menzies - huge eyebrows.  Hawke - eyebrows, Howard - eyebrows. Now it may have looked like Howard didn't have eyebrows but he had an eyebrow dresser.  Now if that doesn't scream long long long eyebrows what does?

Rudd's eyebrows are too anaemic, and therefore not a long lasting PM in his first term.
And then we have Julia, she of course hasn't huge horny eyebrows ergo not long term PM material either.  It remains to be seen if Rudd can grow eyebrows so he can make the grade the second time around.  Maybe he could put on a Groucho mask.  You know, you can fool some of the people some of the time and so on.

I am not forgetting dear old Gough.  He definitely had the eyebrows.  Sacked by Kerr, I shout from the tree tops, "He was robbed."  Down with John Kerr!  Come to think of it Kerr had the eyebrows as well.

Eyebrows, yep that's how it all goes.

PS.  Julia was dumped for Rudd
Rudd held the election and Rudd got dumped by the Liberals.
I was right it is all to do with eyebrows.

Leave yourself a note

I must remember to leave myself notes.  I need a note by the heater to say,  "Switch off."  I may however, put a note that says, "Don't put your knickers in the microwave.  This pays tribute to my late neighbour who loved warm knickers in the cold weather.

When heating up the frying pan I need a note to remind me that I am actually turning on the hotplate.  Then there should be one to turn the hot plate off after cooking.  Oh yeah and one on the oven so I don't heat the whole kitchen up.  Of course there has to be a note on the hot water tap that says, "Don't even think about leaving the tap on while you go off on a wander around the house."  My taps have been installed the wrong way round so the hot tap is where the cold tap should be.  I know that now but down the track a bit I will have to put a sign up on the tiles. The garden tap needs a note to remind me to turn it off.  Why I even turn it on I don't know.

There will eventually be so many notes to remind me to do things that the whole house will look like a snow storm: a positive confetti of notes fluttering in the breeze.

On top of everything I will hang a huge banner that says, "READ THE NOTES, THE NOTES, THE PAPER THINGS, YOU KNOW THE PIECES OF PAPER WITH WORDS ON THEM, THE ONES, YOU KNOW THE ONES: READ THEM."

Overkill, I think not!

I just realized that I repeated myself.  I wrote a blog about incipient dementia and then wrote about some of my lapses again in this blog.  Never fear BACK SPACE AND CUT are my lifeline from idiocy to seeming sanity.

Tears

It is raining outside my room
Tears falling soaking the earth
I am a reservoir an ocean of tears
But my cheeks are dry
I envy the sky
Sobbing down my window

Is this the beginning of dementia?

I feel that I need to set out my lapses before I don't even know I am having lapses.  While once I put my drivers licence into the ATM (by the way that does not work) my lack of concentration is growing more and more pronounced.  Lately, I have tried to answer a drink of water instead of answering the phone.  In my defence the phone had awakened me from a deep sleep so grabbing my glass of water may or may not be justifiable.

Nowadays I get easily distracted.  I tend to put the frying pan on to heat up and then forget it.  In fact I actually need to stick to doing one thing at a time.  No more putting something away in another room and then forgetting the task in hand to making the bed or perhaps putting out the re-cycling.  Once I have done the re-cycling I water the plants or do a bit of weeding.  Needless to say by the time I come back in smoke is billowing from an extremely hot frying pan.  I also think that if I am making scones I should stay in the kitchen and not make crispy nuggets.

Last night I excelled myself.  I rang a friend and then got caught up in something on the television. Eventually I noticed that I was holding the phone in my hand and remembered that I was supposed to be talking to my friend, who in the meantime had hung up.  I wonder if she thought is was one of those prank calls.  I rang her again and confessed my inattention.

When I was younger the silly things that oldies do was amusing.  Now that I am 67 and thence on downhill  run to 70, the story is not so funny.  I don't want to be the silly senile oldie that my friends giggle about. I don't want to lose it; in particular my ability to function in day to day life.  Inside I am 23 and outside I look pretty wrinkly and that I don't mind but losing my mind is a bit of a worry.

PS Today I finished a phone call but was still cradling the phone on my shoulder some time later while I was cleaning the bathroom.  Whoops.

PPS While making toast I somehow put a tea towel on the top of the toaster and made smoke rather than toast.  What is going on in my tiny brain.  Not much I suppose.

Training Henrietta Rose

I mean to say, I am supposed to be training the puppy right?  Well it is not working out that way.  She appears to be training me.  She has found things in this house that I don't think the house even knew about.  Yesterday she was chewing a pin, then she found some handbags. Later she appeared with one of the sneakers that I do not wear anymore.  I really think that she has noticed that my house is sort of lived in and needs a good tidy.  While this may be a good thing, however, I really protest enforced household spring cleaning when it is not spring.

The puppy also loves to find my knickers to drag around the house.  I know that they are clean knickers because I put the used ones straight into the washing machine.  Obviously I need to police the whole folding up and putting away method.  I guess that she likes to make a bed of clean underwear and to stretch out for a lovely doggie sleep.

I find myself playing tug-of-war with her all the time.  Last night I was taking the shower curtains down and ended up playing the silly game with her until I could get them into the washing machine.  I am really finding it hard to get dressed as she latches on to whatever I am trying to put on or take off.

I have been taking her to puppy pre-school and rather than her learning anything I am learning that everything I do is wrong.  She only weighs 1.7kg and yet she is the most assertive pup in the class.  She loves to egg on Brooklyn the golden retriever and then turn on her and growl and show her teeth.  The teacher says that it is normal for a puppy to do this.  I understand that but Brooklyn who weighs about 6 kg is being beaten up by something that she could probably eat for breakfast.

I will say however, that Henny picks things up very quickly.  (See previous paragraph on picking up). She has learned to sit and come and now we are going through drop.  I find it hard to do this one because you actually have to get down on the puppy's level.  I really need a bigger dog to achieve this. I can practice at home by getting down on the floor but I cannot let the other members of the class see my rather ungainly way of getting back on my feet. I am getting a little excited I think because my plan is to teach Hen to roll over.  She already knows how to play dead but that is because she is asleep at the time.

What Hen has taught me so far is to pick absolutely everything up off the floor.  I now know that she loves paper, pencils, stones, shoes, socks, anything that is huge and difficult to move, handbag handles, mobile phones and tv remotes.  She also loves to try to herd the cat around the house.  The cat is three times her size and has no sense of humour what-so-ever.  If Hen tries to bite her tail once more the cat will not be responsible for her actions.

I came in from shopping yesterday and realized that the lounge room is set out for a toddler.  There is a rug on the floor plus a nice bed.  There are soft toys, balls, squeakers and chew bones strewn everywhere. I have been trained.  My house is not my home any-more.  It is merely the playground for Miss Henrietta Rose maltese/chihuahua/poodle cross.