Mummy and the Dentist

I spent a lovely day with Bell yesterday...well some of it was lovely and some of it a bit shitful really.

When Belly was a child her father sent her off to the dentist on her own for what he said would just be a little check-up, but she came home with the terrifying news that she needed to have 4 teeth unceremoniously ripped out. This happened in hospital and was all quite traumatic, but the ultimate upshot is that she never went back to the dentist again.

Some weeks ago she let slip that a bit of tooth had sprung loose and that she had a bit of pain. She said that she had made an appointment at the free dentist place but she would have to wait for about 6 months for a date with the possie of practising dentists.

This wasn't good enough I didn't reckon so I sat on the phone til I made an appointment at a place nearby and said I would be there to hold her hand.

Well that offer might well have been the bravest most motherly thing I have ever made.

I too am terrified of going to the dentist. The explanation is a long turgid story of gore and incompetence that I wont go into, but suffice to say, I now go to my bloke who I have trained up nicely. I have a panic attack every time I go. I shake and my eyes leak and my fella knows that he just has to ignore me and carry on and if he is actually hurting me he will know cos I will elbow him hard in his bits. All other reactions are to be ignored.

So when I offered to go with Bell, I was concerned that I might be less than useful.

The first time was HUGE! There was a walloping needle and a lot of drilling and phaffing and I held her hand and counted her breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth and roused on her and told her to get a grip and that if she didn't get a grip, she'd pass out and fall of the chair. Honestly, it was like coaching a baby out of a reluctant mother.

I sounded like some crazy bitch banshee. I was pleased there was no one in the waiting room. I sucked it up and actually watched the whole procedure.

Yesterday we went back for round 2 and it was more of the same except that there were people in the waiting room. I can only imagine what the 2 old people were thinking as they sat there waiting to have their teeth whitened.

I think we only have to go back once more and that is just for a little look at gums. I hope Bell will go in on her own, cos she will have to manage it at some point and she will have to be able to hold Zig's hand too. That of course could be the making of her as mine of her could be for me.

I reckon my bloke might well be more than a little surprised next time I am unlucky enough to have to see him.

Apart from all this, I am left wondering, who the bloody hell would ever choose to be a dentist?

Private property - does it really need to be sign posted?

Last night the dog was going nuts and Steve said that there were a couple of Yobbos on our pontoon chucking out bait fish nets.

I'd had a migraine all day and was still feeling a bit off, so my manners and repartee were not up to my usual standard. Steve almost never says anything cos he rightly reckons a bloke saying something to these arses would only escalate to something awful.

By the time I was really irritated about it, the fellas had moved onto our neighbour's pontoon.

I went out and had a look and even in the dark I could see that they had left shit all over our deck area.

I called out, ' You're not gonna leave a mess there are you?' and then the exchange went like this.

Tweedle :  What mess?

Me:            There's a mess on my pontoon.

Tweedle:  What harm am I doing? What damage am I doing?

Me:            Do you realise you are on private property?

Tweddle: What damage am I doing?

Me:           Your sense of entitlement beggars belief!

One of them came off Bev's pontoon and started to walk up her stairs to her HOUSE!

She came out and he stopped and she said it was OK for them to be there. As she was there on her own she could have been intimidated into this or she might really think it ok for 2 fools to help themselves.

I stood out on my deck and called to Steve for a camera. I watched them and watched them.

Now instead of mooching off into the night because they had been caught, THEY WAVED at me!!

They waved and waved and finally left. I refused to be intimidated and stood there with Dog barking like a great big mean dog, and said nothing but watched them til they were gone!

What sort of a world have we sunk to?

It's not the use of the pontoon that bothers me. Sometimes people see me out  there and ask if it's ok.
During the day I can usually charm people into realising that perhaps it would be plane good manners to ask to use someone's property before just trekking on over and leaving shit all over the place.

A while ago some woman decided she wanted a swim so just wandered on down the canal to find an open pool and set up camp in the sunshine on someone else's deck chair. She obviously had been in for a swim and when the owner came home, she was amazed that he was less than amused.

What is going on here?

Can I next expect to come home and find some drop kick cooking up a storm in my kitchen?

Have we really returned to a time of communal Joe Public ownership?

PS We just found a small bream now the breakfast of about a million ants, thrown onto the pool deck. So not only did they not like being told that they were on private property they thought they should make a statement by chucking an undersized fish over our wall!!

This retribution and the fear of it is why so many people say NOTHING.

While fear is ruling and editing normal reactions, the bullies win. It's time to speak out!!

This objectification of women gives me the screaming irrits!

2 Skinny women dressed in tight black plastic, carrying whips and wearing too much bloody lippy on trout pouts...well what could that possibly be about?

These women keep popping up in the middle of the Com Games sports, sometimes twice in a row!

Are they advertising their latest venture into S&M ?

Did they get caught out at a fancy dress when their dog went missing?

Are they hoping that women everywhere remember to wash their unmentionables so they don't have to resort to wearing their old Halloween costume?

I am not sure how I would explain any of this shite to Zig without going puce in the face and doing a bit of yelling, and god knows he already knows that Ma is a bit nuts, he doesn't need any more evidence.

The camera follows the girls and I am so pleased that we are given a close up of one girl's bum crack cos it is clear that she is not wearing any knicky-noos. All that sweaty plastic right next to her bits and no cottontails for protection! Ooooh yukky!


And then the women start licking tyres and fiddling very unconvincingly with their tiny whips while some gormless fella looks on through some sort of catatonic haze.

Bloody hell!! It's an ad for some tyre place which shall not be named and never frequented by me.

What the fuck is happening here. Have I just hopped into a time machine and returned to the 70s? - a time when very scantily clad women draped themselves all over car bonnets or guns or fishing poles or whatever else men were thought to routinely want to buy. I guess that was a simpler time, when men were thought to be dickheads without a brain, only a walking penis - a time when advertisers thought it good enough to get a bloke to buy the car with the red head girl and the size 36DD tits.

Ah the 70's, when Jimmy Savile was doing his dirty filthy despicable deeds and no one thought to question it.

I thought we had moved on.

Men are not fools driven by their cocks, so I do not understand this type of advertising, unless of course these idiots are now going for the truly niche market of crazy lesbian S&M folk who might need a tyre on a rope on which to swing.

This objectification of women gives me the screaming irrits!

Home Sweet Home

 

 

This is the hard to take view from our table at the Brewery yesterday.

We took a leisurely drive home today.

First we called in and grabbed a coffee and sultana scone at a place on the High Street. How very yummy and Dog enjoyed the vanilla cream by the finger full....Yeh I know she shouldn't ....don't send any letters. We called in for petrol and cash and then were offskie.

We went via Harry's place at The Summit,  cos he had a couple of tractor seats which Steve reckons he might be able to use, and I wanted to take some pics of the tractor thing that I would quite like to allow Zig to climb on in the garden. Country folk always seem to have time for a natter and a quick escape was neither wanted nor possible.

My THING was used for making long mound in the earth to grow strawberries or something. I am not gonna pretend to be all Farmer Joe. It has interesting metal disc things that I can see all painted up in different colours. It's about 3 metres long and maybe a bit more than a metre wide and weighs in at about half a ton or is that half a tonne.... Not sure why I am questioning that really cos it makes no difference to me. I don't know the difference. I will say that it is bloody heavy. If I / we can work out a way of hauling it over the fence without doing any damage then it is  a possibility, although, I am pretty sure that I like it far more than Steve...I can see it glammed up and all, and it is possible that I have not yet made a compelling argument for it. Watch this space. The price Harry wants for it includes delivery!! Well he's going to be coming to the Goldie to visit his son so he could just pop it onto his trailer. Country folk are unbelievably obliging!

Little towns passed in a blur and we stopped at Boonah for a look see. I hadn't been there for many years and I must admit that my memories were no what called for the stop... more likely it was time to pee and take Dog out for a walk. Well what a quaint place it is. Coffee shops aplenty and if you want to buy some walloping slabs of beef you are spoiled for choice, with 3 butchers in about 150 metres. No big Coles or Woolies buggering up local shopping here in Boonah. Yummo T Bone steaks for dinner!

Then we poodled along back to the Goldie.

When Steve came back from a month in London, he commented that the house seemed empty, and I wondered if that was a complaint, but coming home today I could see what he meant. There is so much lovely space and whilst there have been no almighty arguments resulting from the confined quarters, I am pretty sure there is a limit to how long we could both be sardined in together. We do enjoy some space!!

Dog was straight in and onto her couch on the deck. I think that all the excitement has completely worn her out. Me too it must be said.

Reckon it is time to be horizontal on my couch.



A couple of Doggie Touristy Days

There is plenty to do in and around Stanthorpe and it might surprise people to know that it is not only all about the wineries and identifying the front back upside-down notes of autumnal fruits or the stinky bouquets.

Yeh we went to a Cellar Door and I discovered that the reason I am not a fan, is cos I feel like such a fucking idiot. I had no clue what the woman was on about. She might as well have been talking Chinese. I do very much hate feeling like a fool. We only went in to get another bottle of the wine we had bought and enjoyed from a local bottleo. We tried all the whites and still left with the bottle we went in for. I breathed a sigh of relief when we left. We didn't go to any others, one was more than enough.

We did however call in to The Granite Belt Brewery, and this place was a different kettle of fish altogether. The beer came on a tasting paddle and the woman/girl was just lovely. It was in a big old boozer and they were more than happy for us to spend a leisurely afternoon in their garden with the dog frolicking and sometimes chasing the ducks. The boutique beers were all different and some tasted good and some were a bit shit, but Steve came away with some stubbies of IRA - Irish Red Ale. It's dark and tasty.

I drove the monster truck home.

We have met some great country folk. Harry runs a wrecking sort of yard. I might be doing him a disservice with that description. He has some machines in bits and I am still trying to work out how I could use various bits and pieces. Steve and Harry chattered for a while about the pumps and pulleys and the 'stuff' and I wondered what the bits would look like upside down painted various colours. I have Harry's card and will keep in touch.

The people in the Cheese factory were friendly and again more than happy to accommodate Dog. We had a light snack here and took away some yummy cheese and sour cherry jam.

It should be noted that I reckon Dog has become very well behaved while we've been away. Perhaps she is just so bloody pleased to be included. She sits calmly with us wherever we are and people have been stopping and ignoring us but saying hello to her, complimenting her on her good manners and pretty face.

We stopped at the arse end of buggery and climbed along a bit of a shit path to find Thunderbolt's Hideout, which turned out to be less than salubrious. It will surprise few to learn that my great great great grandfather was indeed Thunderbolt the bushranger, and when as I guess was inevitable, he had to run to hide, he found comfort in the granite boulders and caves. More about Mr Ward at a later time.

So we are heading home tomorrow, perhaps via Harry's place and maybe Warwick.

Whilst I have enjoyed our little foray into the Doggie holiday, I must admit that I will be happy to be back home to my bathroom and a little more space.

Dog Holidays from Mummy's perpsective.

Just very quickly, I thought it appropriate to give a more rounded view of holidaying with Dog.

Whilst she has been very well behaved, even if a little skittish and sometimes a little more odd than usual, I can now reveal that there are some things that are definitely more for the dogs than for people.

There is a restaurant up here in Stanthorpe, called Anna's and I had read a lot about it before we came away. We stumbled upon it on our first drive through the town. But can we go there? NO! Steve and I brought a change of decent clothes with us to wear, but the closest we are gonna get is to wave to it on our way somewhere else.

I had this idea that we could leave dog in the cabin and go, but I don't think I can do that. And there is a dog enclosure outside we could use. It's some chicken wire spanned between star pickets. I reckon Dog is far too spoiled for that, even if she wore her little coat, I reckon the indignity of it all might about kill her.

I am still toying with the idea that we could leave her in the car while we eat, but that would mean no drinks and I am still not sure about all that time in the car.

It is just as well that I cooked up some lovely dinners and popped 'em in the freezer before we came away, so that at least at the end of day we can settle back with a glass of something and eat well. Not as well as if we went to Anna's, but well enough.

It would be easier to take a child on holidays, cos people have no choice about whether or not to allow a sprog entry. But kids answer back and whinge and get tired and spew up in the car want to be entertain every minute of every day. Dog has not once said, 'I'm Bored, are we there yet?' So whilst it might be easier in terms of planning and eating and sometimes looking at stuff, to take a kid, I reckon Dog has been easier on my nerves. She mostly does what she is told and has only barked ONCE and that was at the traffic lights in  Warwick!

She has demanded that I am up at dawn to let her out, and now she can go by herself for a little wander and a shit (which we do collect if we see it but otherwise given the huge piles of the stuff all around the complex, we imagine that it is just seen as useful fertiliser). I let her out, put the kettle on read the newspaper online, stoke the fire up for the day, and enjoy the time to myself.

I am pleased that we bought some DVDs which are keeping us entertained in the evenings. We could go out into the yard with some banjo playing locals who throw all manner of stuff onto the outside burners and play ball games in the dark, but I am happy inside.

So it has been probably the strangest holiday because it has been so much about Dog and not so much about lovely food and drinks and shopping and galleries, but I haven't had to wonder if some crazy arse is tying Dog to a fence, or if Dog has had enough exercise or cuddles so there are some big advantages to taking her along.

Of course the rather rural nature of the week is conducive to Dog. I rather doubt I could / would want to take her to Sydney or Melbourne. I can't imagine tram commuters being too thrilled with her on the trams. Ho hum.

For our next adventure to Yeppoon we are staying at a holiday house with a fully fenced yard so I reckon I will be happy to leave her outside when we head off for some 'people time' Dog won't be too thrilled with that, but no doubt will be happier than if we left her tied up to a fence somewhere.

So far so good for Dog holidays, and it must be said that I would far rather take her than stop at home wondering what we are missing.

It's a Dog's life. Woof.

What a lovely couple of days, woof! After I got over my possible abandonment issues and my upset tummy from maybe nerves or all those corners, I have really settled in.

Mummy and Daddy have found all sorts of places which embrace THE DOG. Yesterday we went to the Bramble Patch where I had a little run around and licked some cream and ice cream and coulis from Mummy's spoon, yum yum woof, Don't look too closely at my photo if that sort of thing makes you squeamish, woof woof.

We travelled along old roads to old places and sometimes Mummy and Daddy left me in the monster for a sleep and sometimes I was out and about with them. We went to Wallangarra and Tenterfield and had a little mooch around some of the shops and Mummy found a big field full of old machine parts... who would think you could farm them?? There was a sign there that said all the stuff was being auctioned in October, but I don't know if Mummy is that patient. Woof ha ha!

She wants to give me a new peeing post in the garden, and if she gets one of these things then I will be the talk of the park. A brand new pissing post, really I can hardly wait, WOOF!

Today we went along a very very bumpy road which had a flash name, Mt Lindsey Road, but the bitumen man missed long stretches of it and the monster truck is now pretty dirty. I think my tummy might have gotten a little mixed up along the way, but the grass I chewed up at the pub this afternoon, seems to have sorted that.

Along the way we came across a big old load of COWS woof woof woof. I really wanted to get out and do a bit of herding cos the silly things were wandering all over the road. I reckon Daddy was a bit nervous in case they stampeded at the car, but Mummy went mad with the camera and giggled like a girl.

When we got to Kilarney I stayed in the car while they went into a little gallery and they came out with some stuff which didn't look like a new pissing post to me, but which seemed to make them happy, and then we drove on through the rain to Warwick.

As ever I went spastic at the traffic lights. I don't know what you all hear at these things but the noise does drive me completely nuts. When we got passed 'em, I settled into the High Street experience. Warwick is holding its, 'Jumpers and Jazz' festival. All the trees and the usual pissing posts were dressed up with very funny looking stuff. Mummy went mad with her camera AGAIN woof. Daddy got some shoes and we had a very good poke around the Warwick town centre. I liked Warwick very much, woof. People kept on stopping us and saying what a pretty girl I am. It is a very friendly place.

Mummy and Daddy have decided that I am grown up enough to go for a little wander around our cabin, all on my own. It seems odd to me that they insist on coming with me most of the time
just to collect up my shit. There is so much other doggie doos around here I do wonder what difference my little offerings would make but there are obsessed with it. Maybe they just really enjoy it. woof woof ha ha ha.

They have let me off my lead at friendly places and I have been very good coming back when I am called, even when Mummy forgets to give a treatie.

I am having a lovely time on my holiday. woof woof woof.

Still Dibley Dog

Just a quick update woof.

Well this place ain't bad, but it ain't the Big House.

My tummy was a bit upset last night, so I didn't fancy my dinner. Maybe this  because I worried too much about being left with a crazy woman woof. Instead I am settling into the very small house with Mummy and Daddy.

I am not real sure about the fire thing. It is bloody hot, woof woof! And it goes against the grain of this young lady to have to ask to go outside to answer the call, woof woof woof. But Mummy cooked a yum dinner of lamb shoulder last night and I reckon there might be a bit left for me today so that will be a good reason for my guts to come good.

Mummy got up early and took me out into the bush for a ball throw and a, woof, well you know what we doggies do in the morning. It was pretty chilly, but she put my coat on and I ran like a crazy thing, woof.

Now I am sitting waiting for Daddy. Mummy wont let me in there to jump on the bed like I do at home. Woof woof woof, howl.

Bet we have some big adventures planned for today. Maybe I will find another dog to lay with or even a Kangaroo. Woof.

Dibley Dog has taken over

This morning was really odd, a bit distressing and sometimes very off putting, woof!

It's Sunday, and usually that means a slow start but eventually Mummy gets her shit together and takes me out for a good old ball chase and then  we go to Avril's for coffee and if I am really lucky there is sometimes a bit of bacon. Yummo woof!

Anyway this morning Mummy was hold up in the bathroom washing her hair. That NEVER happens on a Sunday. And then bugger me if she doesn't start packing a bag. Shit, woof, don't tell me she is going to Sydney again. I hate it when she goes, away woof!

Then Daddy popped my bed out in the family room and I started to wonder what the fuck, woof was going on. He started packing and then at least Mummy took me out. I ran properly and I was just the perfect dog, woof, cos I wanted her to know I am a good girl.

There were bloody bags packed and food sorted and I think some of it was for me and then Daddy packed the monster truck and the first thing he put in was MY BED, WOOF!! I bloody hoped they were not taking me to that crazy bitch again. I really hated going there!! The bloody woman tied me to the fence till Nik came to rescue me, woof woof woof.

I kept running around the house to make sure I was not gonna be left behind. Mummy kept stopping to talk to me but she's a bit nuts cos she has forgotten I don't speak fluent English. I just gave her a smooch and let her get on with things but I didn't let her out of my sight, woof.

The monster truck got filled to the brim but there was still room for me and then Daddy called me and I jumped in neatly and sat down a bit nervously, woof woof, after all I still didn't know where I was going.

And off we took. I cried a bit, woof, until I fell asleep. When I woke up we were at Beaudesert. I had been there before, but I didn't know why we needed all the stuff in the monster. Mummy and Daddy had a coffee and I had a bit of a romp and then we were off again, woof.

With nothing else to do, I slept my way through Aratula, and Warwick, woof. I was pleased Daddy had put my blanket in my bed cos it was getting a little chilly.

Then we all hopped out at Stanthorpe.

Daddy unloaded the monster and the very first thing he brought in was WOOF WOOF, MY BED!!  And then all their stuff came in. Yippee, WOOF WOOF!! we are all going on a little holiday together.

The cabin is pretty little but it does have a wood fire and plenty of room for my bed.

I have no idea what we are gonna do but I reckon we are gonna have a lovely time here. Woof woof!

Westerly madness.

The westerly winds are whipping up a noisey mess in the garden and the park and the water in the canal looks like a small person could do some surf training. I do love that wind!!

My hair blows around and leaves me looking something akin to the old crazy woman people often refer to.

There is no doubt that the wind leaves people a bit nuts. Perhaps in response to this madness I decided to spring clean the laundry today, so I have been in and out of the house dropping rubbish into the wheelie which was awaiting collection on the footpath. On one of my journeys out there my dress blew up over my head and I greeted a neighbour through the fabric as she wandered along whinging about how much she hated winter. Yeh we are all very lucky that there is no photo of that!!

She lamented the wind and the cold and called for a speedy return to summer. I laughed threw my dress, fumbled to open the lid to dump a pile of crap into the bin, and tried unsuccessfully to get Dog to come back into the yard. Oh well, I just figured she was also being affected by the wind, or maybe all manner of foreign smells were being whipped along and she didn't want to miss out on any of 'em. Dog became a peeing machine, so I hope it was the smells not a urinary tract infection.

I love all that craziness. It just makes me laugh. The spontaneity of it all and people's reaction to strangeness makes for an interesting diversion.

And the cooler weather is also welcome. I don't like being cold, but I sure like being warm in the cold.

When we booked to go to Stanthorpe, the days were maxing out at about 6 or 7 degrees and the nights were as cold as -5. Yippee!! but the closer we get to heading off, the warmer are the predictions. Now it looks like it might well be thong weather while we are there and that is just a little disappointing. The place has a wood stove and I was really looking forward to just being in the warm in the cold.

So I am enjoying this bit of nuttiness and reckon if I cared less about offending the neighbours I might have to belt out a few verses or 'Que Sera Sera' - The hair might be blonde at the moment, but Doris Day I am NOT.

Ian Thorpe

A bloke I know is fiercely protective of his kids and his boy is just now 16. He reckons that if anyone asks his son if he is gay, they should expect to be bruised.

He doesn't care if his boy is gay, he cares that some nosey parker asks such a question of a child.

So the big news this week is that Ian Thorpe came out. Well big deal and good on him and I truly hope that he can now just crack on and do whatever he wants to do without some nosey arse asking such questions.

I am saddened that the world still finds such statements shocking and newsworthy. I mean really who gives a flying shit about someone else's sex life? What sort of perv asked a child about that? What sort of society do we live in where it is acceptable to go after someone cos they might be gay? For fuck sake this is not Russia!!

Michael Romei, a freelance journalist has written quite the article about Thorpe's interview on sunday.

http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/2014/07/14/comment-thorpe-emerges-too-late-some

When I read it I thought it was soo odd that Mr Romei was soo cross with Thorpe for not coming out in a fashion timely enough to be of help to him.

Well bugger me!! It seems that Mr Romei has long held the irrits about this. He reckons that if Thorpe had come out ages ago, his own life would have been easier. FFS!!

Thorpe's denials 'offended' Romei. Well bugger me again! I still reckon that we should have all been offended by the continuing questions and hounding.

Some people come out early. I taught a very self possessed young man who came out when he was about 16 and I have known men well into their 40s who still struggle with it. Some men lie about it, some deny it, some are unsure about it, and some have NFI what all the fuss is about.

Mr Romei's very idea that someone should be more timely with their public announcement about something that is private, just so he could have benefited, seems more than a little selfish.

I am not pretending to know what it is like to walk in the shoes of a gay man. I can only comment as a PERSON. Sure I have been known to gossip about the sexuality of celebrities, in fact I am pretty sure that I might well have asked a mate with a well defined GAYDAR if Ian Thorpe was gay. I didn't care about the answer.

What I do care about is the QUESTIONS.

If it wasn't for the bloody questions, I am pretty sure people would be more comfortable being themselves.

I look forward to a time when people are judged on their achievements not their sexuality.

I certainly hope that Ian Thorpe is long remembered as The King of Australian swimming and that every time his name comes up it is not with reference to the interview with Parkie.

Explorers!

We are all a bloody long time dead, so it makes no sense at all  to sit around day after day just getting closer to the grim reaper's grasp. Last year was pretty shitful, and I was just pleased to be able to keep one foot in front of the other. But now I am ready and rearing to go.

Once a month, assuming I can get it sorted, we are gonna be off to explore bits of OZ. First up is Stanthorpe this weekend. It should be cold and frosty and as we have Dog's outfit sorted she should be able to enjoy the excursion too.

Taking Dog is proving the adventurous bit of our expeditions. If we can manage to throw her into the car and take off then we will be able to take off more often.

It is far more taxing trying to plan time away with a dog. For 2 adults you can go budget or flash and whatever your choices there are plenty of possibilities, you just need to decide what you want and go for it. But Dog makes it tricky. Dog becomes the only prerequisite.

Places might well advertise that they are 'Pet Friendly', but I have discovered that that is not always the case. In fact all too often that is just a bit of nonsense.

I know I have mentioned this before but as my day has been full of all this, my mind is just volcano spewing about it. Steve is pleased I am writing to get it out of my system.

Today I rang a place in Maryborough as I am planning the next jaunt to Yeppoon.

'Yes we are pet friendly. How big is your dog?'
'She's a kelpie'
'Oh dear, we only have toy dogs in the rooms and only then if they are kept in the bathroom. There
 is one room we have that is near a disused toilet block that you could lock your dog in. If your dog goes into the room and drops fur on the carpet, I will have to charge you $250 for cleaning.'

I am the first to support the owners' right to set any rules they like, but I don't think the fine print at this place, proved it to be pet friendly.

I would like to insist that no children are allowed in rental places. Grubby little vegemite fingers running all around the walls - yukky and time consuming to clean, but it's not politically correct to say that kids are all too often a pain in the bum.

Anyway I think our little plan of just hopping in the monster truck and taking off is a bit utopian. It is necessary to have a list of truly dog friendly places all sorted and confirmed before taking off. And in doing the planning I am getting to chat to some pains, but also to some lovely folk. People who own dogs and run accommodation businesses are keen to swap dog stories and are understandably more tolerant.

There that's the truth of it. I am like any parent of a small kid. Just as they want to brag about their kids and discuss their quirks and capabilities, I want to carry on about Dog.

Oh dear I have become a Dog Mother.

I am really hoping that Dog friendly is not a euphemism for stinky smelly dirty shit box, cos whilst Dog has been THE perquisite I don't want to stay in a kennel.

Excellence and attention to detail.

I am the slap dash kind of girl. I like things done quickly in a big rush, following a sort of plan and when things inevitably go oopsy, I make up a new plan on the run. I get things done. Things get finished FAST. But there have been so many disasters and near misses along the way.

Steve is like the little red engine. He plods along, 'I think I can, I think I can.' Everything is planned and measured and planned and measured. Every part of every project is completed in a planned and organised manner. Every element is tested and made perfect before moving onto the next one. I reckon his favourite tools might be the tape measure and the spirit level. When Steve signs off on a project, you know it is bloody perfect, even if you have seen the seasons change and are noticing new wrinkles.

The garden makeover is done except for the planting, and that is my job. The new concrete sleepers which have replaced the twisted old timber ones, are millimetre perfect and completely and absolutely safe and level and bloody beautiful, and the raised planting bed made from those shitful timber sleepers is sanded smooth and as square and perfect as it can be. Already it has become a favourite place to sit and watch 'the girls' swim around.

I got involved at the very end cos by then it was about shovelling and spreading rocks and stuff, so no finesse was necessary and really after so long bent backed, Steve was due a bit of respite. Try as might, I could not go slowly slowly with the shovel. More like mad thing magoo really and so yeh I ran out of puff half way through and then poor old Steve still had to finish off.

Anyway the finished product is a testament to Steve's pursuit of perfection.

I was all set to plant up the raised bed and the pots near the front door with lavender, but Bell has warned that there might be an awful lot of fall out blown into the pond, so now I am thinking about it again. Unusally, I have already had plan one and two, for the planting, but am now thinking again.

Maybe if I think long enough it will turn out as perfect as the hard landscaping.

Dog Coats - what a selection!

As we are heading off into the wide brown yonder very soon and as the temperatures there have been somewhere between -5 and about 15 and as we are taking Dog with us, we thought it prudent to make sure that Dog is gonna be warm enough. We wouldn't want her to catch a cold after all.

Our local pet shop, Bernies has always been our favourite. A huge chain shop opened up across the road from it and I thought that was more than a little cheeky. I don't know what goes on in there and I don't care to know.

We like Bernies!! It is family run and at sometime in the past I taught one of the kids - now an adult.

We like Bernies!! There is always someone there to help out and give excellent advice.

We like Bernies!! They have helped us look after Dog and set up our fish pond and now they help us look after the girls too.

So when we wanted a coat for Dog, of course we went to Bernies.

The range of outfits was more than a little overwhelming, and as I have never needed to buy a coat for a dog before, we needed help.

There was no limit to the number of outfits we were allowed to try on. Firstly the lovely woman measured Dog and then showed us coats in all manner of styles and colours and thicknesses and prices. Dog was very well behaved. Yes of course she was allowed into the shop so she could be fitted properly.

Honestly, I have had far less attention very often, trying to fit and buy shoes for Zig.

We settled on a very fetching number which should keep her warm and dry.

Dog stands beautifully while we dress her. She is not the least bit fazed by it all. Again I have had more trouble with Zig losing interest in a shoe shop or a clothes store.

I think she looks FAB. I reckon she should wear her little coat all the time, but Steve wants her to save it for Stanthorpe.

We got her a new supply of food and some food for the girls and they gave us a 10% discount and a great big bucket thing to hold all her biscuits.

We like Bernies!!

'Elf and Safety vs Playtime.

Years ago back when TV was first invented and sliced bread was a luxury, and kids climbed trees and ran amuck from morning til dark, I broke my arm. We would go out barefooted and scurry up tree trunks and swing from the loopy branches and often land laughing, in a heap on the unprotected ground. If there was a row of trees a race would be on to see who go the highest the fastest.

From the time I was about 5, I was throwing myself around all the gymnastic equipment, including the somewhat treacherous parallel bars. For almost a decade I wrapped my self around the beam or the bars and all too often landed flat on my back on the ridiculously thin mats, only to hear my coach yelling,'Get up and do it again!' I remember the everywhere bruises and the delight in mastering a move.

We jumped off verandahs and decks gleefully shouting, 'Geronimo!' on the way down and I took so much skin off just about everywhere that I reckon I could have walled papered a small bathroom with the flakey bits.

Perhaps one of my funnest things to do was to swing madly around on the old Hills Hoist. Our back yard was on quite a slope so you could start on the short side and get a bit of a run up and then swing free onto the high side with legs flailing and arms being stretched to the limit. Of course a good game was to stop the hoist mid turn leaving some poor sod just hanging in the breeze. Yeh that was definitely fun! I don't think they make those hoists like that anymore.

But you know what, I didn't break my arm doing any of those things.

I was 11 and in my final primary school year. I was the captain of the school road crossing team. There were no lollypop ladies back then. Kids sorted themselves. There was a crossing just outside the school and we held up banners to stop the traffic and allowed kids to cross over. It was not rocket science and we didn't have a blue card or a white card or indeed any bloody coloured card. I think I might have had a pretty badge to wear on my uniform, but I could be making that up through wishful thinking.

Before we could start work, warning flags needed to be set up on street poles about 100 metres down from the crossing. This was the least favourite part of the job and one day no-one would go for the little run so as I was the boss there was no choice but to do it myself. I took off running down the hill and got all tangled up in the bloody warning sign, fell over and snapped the bone in my left arm. Well that bloody hurt!!

If it wasn't for that health and safety sign, I reckon I could have gone through my childish adventures unbroken, battered and bleeding sometimes but not broken. I thoroughly enjoyed blowing my whistle and stepping out onto Pashen Street and stopping the traffic. It was such a powerful rush!

It beggars belief that in a time when there was no decreased speed limits for school zones and no Lollypop people employed to manage crossings, that as far as a I can remember, I was the only one hurt crossing the road.

Morningside State School was a pretty big school, somewhere between 21 and 28 classes of about 25 kids, so it was not some small country yokel place. We mostly walked to and from school unsupervised and just got on with things. My lot walked about a kilometre and crossed a major road without any crossing or lights, just speedy legs and a keen eye.

So when I see Zig kick off his thongs and scale a tree in the park and watch him enjoy the bendy branch wobble I am pleased that health and safety has not completely engulfed today's child.

Lime on Chevron

A while back the local radio station 94.1, was doing a fundraiser and I helped out with a little donation. I was lucky enough to win the hourly prize of a dinner for 2 at Lime on Chevron.

So off we trotted last night to see what was on offer and we certainly were not disappointed. I reckon all too often when  you 'win' a prize like this it is more of a con than anything else, so I was surprised when we lobed up and met Daniel with our voucher that he said to eat drink and be merry and that absolutely everything was covered with the voucher!

Bloody amazing!! So we ordered a couple of beers and listened to the specials and had a lovely time reading the menu. Yummo!

Entrees of leek and potato soup and garlic prawns were delivered and devoured. Delicious!

Herb crusted lamb and yummy stuff and Seafood linguine arrived and was all very tasty too. I reckon Steve's lamb might have been the winner but only marginally so.

Gluttony took over as we both ordered dessert. We had seen all sorts of scrummy sweets marching out, so were not gonna miss out. Cheesecake for Steve and a sticky date pud for me. Sometimes I wonder why I bother with entrees and mains cos I think I could just be happy with a couple of desserts and these certainly didn't disappoint.

The urban chaos flowed passed us and I really enjoyed the lights and the noise and people. We sat outside next to a heater, but there is plenty of seating inside too.

The service staff were excellent, and ensured we had everything we wanted and finally as we took our leave Daniel waved us goodbye. What an excellent host.

I want to thank Daniel and all the Lime staff. We had a wonderful evening and look forward to returning, next time happily with cash in hand.

A Woman's wallet is a very personal thing.

My poor old girl is just plain grubby and more than a little worn out, but I have loved her. We are so comfortable together. I can fiddle around with her in the dark and always know just where to grab and finger to ensure that all's right with the world. Yeh that just means I can always find the Amex and at a pinch, my licence in case of trouble.

The relationship most women have with their wallets is very personal. I spent a long time searching for just the right thing. It needed to hold my cards and sometimes cash and sometimes coins and mostly not get too fat when I shovel in receipts and other silly bits of paper that I might want 'sometime'. Really the crap I keep in there is just nonsense and maybe wishful thinking.

Nik has had a 'big girl' for some years and I admit that it looks very handy and today when we went off to get one as a present for her Aunt, I had a good look at them. Over coffee I gave hers a bit of a test run and saw that it would easily hold all my stuff as well as my phone, so as everything was on sale and they had a red one I decided to take the plunge.

These wallets come in a beautiful range of colours and are worth a bit of a look if you are thinking about a retirement plan for your girl. www.lokoa.com.au

Now I am looking forward to spending sometime finding a new home for all my cards and bits and of course to throwing out some shit that I have been carrying around for far too long.

Dog Friendly Accommodation

It is no secret that we love Dog. We do often manage to organise outings that can include her and she is just as happy as Larry ( who the fuck IS Larry ?) lying in her big space in the monster truck. She is less pleased when she has to squeeze herself into my little hatch. It's a bit like trying to poke all of me into one of those spanx, body fixing corset step-ins things, it's never gonna work out well and there are gonna be bits hanging out and other bits that are squeezed to breaking point. But unlike me who will go for the swinging flab comfort every time, she would prefer to squeeze in that be left at home.

As we are trying to organise a few days touring around the country areas near Stanthorpe, we thought we'd take her too. I mean she is better behaved than many of the kids I have taught and indeed more easily controlled than most of the adults I am pleased to say I spend time with, so I thought finding a decent place to stay that would happily accommodate her would not be too tricky.

I do believe that it's possible to take your dog and stay in a .... I can hardly even think it.... a caravan or a tent!! But if indeed there ever was a time I was happy to cram myself into a sardine can or sleep in a canvas bag barely bigger than my best smock, well that time is now well passed.

The purpose of our little expedition is to find  piece of rural metal that might look cool as a sculpture in our garden. We have been on the hunt for something suitable for sometime, but I reckon we just need to go further afield - pardon the pun. However, I am not so fixated on the sculpture idea that I am willing to sleep or rather, not sleep because of snoring and claustrophobia and cold and schlepping out to shared toilets a number of times in the night, stubbing toes on rocks or snakes or whatever, and the notion of cold communal showers leaves me, well more than just chilly.

So I googled pet friendly accommodation and there were a number a places to choose from. I started sending emails about 2 weeks ago. I made it very clear that we wanted to bring Dog.

Yesterday I got serious about making the booking, so I emailed the best sounding places again and then actually spoke to one owner. We were all set to go. He had given me all the details and we had agreed tariffs and even though it had been very clear in all my emails, I mentioned Dog again. Well he just dropped his bundle, said that his wife wouldn't allow dogs, said that she had been welcoming parrots and the dog would interfere with that, and then he said that if I could just see the house I would understand why there could be no dogs. I must admit to being a little miffed at this point, cos the implication was that his place was better than my place, and that's why it was OK to have a dog at my place.

Yes of course it's his right to say NO to pets. It's a shame though that he advertises on the pet friendly site... Or maybe he would be happy if I brought some of my fish, or a cat or a snake or HORSE?

So I found the next favourite place and emailed again. DOG info was in capitals.

Again I got a confirmation email with tariffs and bank deposit info and linen and fireplace stuff . Yippee!

I fired one back again as there had been no mention of DOG. And almost immediately I was told NO DOGS due to Council regulations.

I am not a patient woman, so I have thrown my toys out of the pram and told Steve that I just can't be bothered trying to find anywhere else.

So if you know of a cottage near Stanthorpe with a fireplace and owners with a willingness to accommodate Dog, please drop me a line. Otherwise I will look to find a different garden solution and stop at the Goldie and enjoy this lovely winter weather.

 

Lovely Winter.

Soo very lovely!! Winter has finally popped its head up and there is a chill that requires a doona snuggle and a sometimes scarf.

It really is my very favourite time of the year!!

Of course it is not so cold as we are expecting snow, and there is no need to chains on the tyres and I don't believe that anti-freeze sales have gone through the roof, but it is chilly in the evenings.

The days are short and perfect, the sky a little paler blue, and still the beach beckoned yesterday morning.

Zig and I were up early. We doona snuggled and discussed issues of the world, like high schools and shoe size,  and while everyone else slept, we made some gooey porridge, He had double, maybe triple helpings of sugar and honey. Well I am MA after all, gotta keep up the traditions! And then we gathered up Dog and headed to the beach. We did have jumpers with us, but they were left in the car along with our thongs and towels and all other things beachy except our hats.

Dog loves the beach. Zig loves the beach. I love the beach. It was a joyful way to start the day.

We played paddle in the surf and throw the ball and one thing quickly led to another and Zig was right into the surf. I watched and paddled and supervised Dog and Boy. Passers-by did stop to wonder. I reckon some even questioned my Ma skills allowing a little guy to romp in the water, but mostly people smiled, even if they were rugged up in coats and scarfs.

When enough surf had been had, we popped up the beach a little and lazed in the sunshine on the warmish sand. Zig's shirt was peeled off his back and he dried out quickly enough, and he rolled and rolled and rolled in the sand. He got sand where I hope never to have sand again. And he made up 'silly walks' that would leave John Cleese swooning. I laughed and laughed. He laughed and laughed, and passers-by wondered.

Dog was buggered as she is always during a Zig visit. There is no time for leisurely dog naps with a 9 year old in the house. She sat and dried out in the sunshine too.

What a perfect way to spend a winter's morning