Month: November 2024

Melancholy Memories

Post Views: 378

The room is ster­ile. In the cen­tre of the room stands the cold steel mechan­i­cal out­line of a bed, sur­round­ed by three uncom­fort­able hard seats and four stark white walls. The aro­ma of dis­in­fec­tant and bleach hangs heavy in the room, cloy­ing the sens­es with the chem­i­cal smells.

You are lying in the bed, uncon­scious, with pads and tubes all over your pale frag­ile form, hooked up to var­i­ous machines with beep­ing nois­es and bright col­ored lights flash­ing inter­mit­tent­ly. I stroke your hand gen­tly as you stir and groan, set­ting off yet anoth­er end­less light flash­ing on the machine clos­est to your head. The tears pour down my face unchecked as melan­choly mem­o­ries of the two of us flood through my sens­es.

We were four, it had been rain­ing and it was the first time in days we had been allowed out­side. We were in the yard play­ing and I was run­ning towards you try­ing my best to con­trol the soc­cer ball I was kick­ing between my legs. You moved towards me, I skipped side­ways and lift­ed my boot to kick. Sud­den­ly I slipped and lost my bal­ance and I end­ed up face plant­ed in the slop­py dirty mud at your feet. You laughed

We were five and you got into big trou­ble at school for chas­ing that stuck up girl with the gold­en pig­tails. You caught her and then tossed her uncer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly into the sand­pit. I laughed

We were six and we got our first bikes for Christ­mas off San­ta Claus. We went out­side to ride them along the street and proud­ly show them off to the neigh­bor­ing kids. We both laughed.

We were sev­en and we were rid­ing those bikes to school. You were just ahead of me when a car came screech­ing around the cor­ner on two wheels, drove up onto the gut­ter and straight into you. Nobody laughed. We nev­er laughed again.

Pain floods my sens­es as my mind trav­els through time to anoth­er place. I couldn’t look at you lying there bro­ken on the grey cement or at the bright red liq­uid stain slow­ly spread­ing about your crushed body. Even now today I still can’t open the box in my mind that con­tains those pic­tures. It is still too raw, still too graph­ic and still too real for me to view.

Your life stopped there that day as mine was just begin­ning.

I was eight and I was cho­sen for the state soc­cer team. You had the first of many surg­eries to repair your bro­ken body. Your pelvis was rebuilt and jaw wired, with bone tak­en from your hips to replace the shat­tered shards of cheek­bones. Your bro­ken back was set in trac­tion and the doc­tors final­ly per­suad­ed the fam­i­ly to remove what was left of your left leg.

I was nine and won “dux” of the school. That was the year when they found out the blood they had giv­en you was con­t­a­m­i­nat­ed and your liv­er began to fail. Your organs shut down and you had swelling on the brain. That year was the begin­ning of the psy­chosis and tor­ment that dogged you for­ev­er more and that was the year you begged me to help you to die.

I sat by your bed­side back then in a room not unlike the one I was now seat­ed in. The same cold, white and ster­ile feel­ing per­me­at­ed every fibre of my being then as it does now. I told you I loved you. I plead­ed with you to live. I cried for you to keep going. I encour­aged you to have the strength to con­tin­ue. I asked you to make the best of what you had and keep liv­ing. You still begged me to help you die. I remem­ber my anger as I told you nev­er to speak of it again. You didn’t, those words nev­er passed your lips again. Instead yet anoth­er light fad­ed from your eyes.

My teen years were full of achieve­ments while your teen years were full of hos­pi­tals, doc­tors and more ago­niz­ing pain. I met a pret­ty girl, fell in love and we got mar­ried. You met with many spe­cial­ists and psy­chi­a­trists. I got pro­mot­ed to man­ag­er of my divi­sion and you got anoth­er assort­ment of pills to keep you qui­et and rel­a­tive­ly pain free.

We had our first baby as you had your first break­down. My lit­tle girl took her first steps and stum­bled into my arms as you began new ther­a­pies on your dam­aged brain. Our sec­ond baby was born around the same time the doc­tors told you that you had a tumor. I watched him laugh and coo and run around on his stumpy legs. I watched the tears pour from your eyes and I watched you wipe them away. I watched you gri­mace in pain and I watched you turn away in soli­tude.

Your bro­ken back had nev­er mend­ed and your only mode of trans­porta­tion was a motor­ized wheel­chair but even that now is cast­away back deep in the dark dusty shed at home gath­er­ing cob­webs. You haven’t been out of bed for near­ly a year now. The tumor was found to be inop­er­a­ble, grow­ing insid­i­ous­ly and evil­ly inside your already dam­aged head.

Tomor­row is the big day though. A new med­ical pro­ce­dure is to be tri­aled. It requires the implant­i­ng of tiny elec­trodes into your brain that will send elec­tri­cal impuls­es into the tumor. Accord­ing to the new team of spe­cial­ists, com­bined with a week­ly course of intense radio­ther­a­py it should shrink the tumor. They haven’t said too much about the side affects, although they tell me that it will be “uncom­fort­able” for you. I vivid­ly remem­ber your last course of radio­ther­a­py, which if any­thing had made the tumor grow. I remem­ber how your face was burnt with the skin peel­ing off in strips and I remem­ber how the inside of your mouth and throat were raw with weep­ing blis­ters. I remem­ber how you end­ed up being tube fed direct­ly into your stom­ach when you could not longer swal­low food or water.

Sud­den­ly the loud inces­sant beep­ing of one of the machines per­vades my sens­es, bring­ing me back to the stark real­i­ty of now. Your breath­ing has slowed, each breath seem­ing­ly requir­ing a great effort from your heav­ing weak­ened body. The machine sounds loud­er now as more lights flash. Med­ical staff come run­ning into the room and I am pushed away to the cor­ner shad­ows.

I stand strick­en as I watch them work on your with­ered shape. For a few min­utes there is fran­tic activ­i­ty and peo­ple yelling instruc­tions. The voic­es take on a pan­icked tone and then every­thing falls silent. A nurse turns to me and looks sad­ly into my eyes. Noth­ing needs to be said as she turns back and slow­ly pulls a sheet over your head. The machines are switched off one by one and the med­ical staff qui­et­ly leave the room.

I am left alone with you but you are no more. I am alone. For the first time in my life I am tru­ly alone. I kneel down by your side and I am stone faced as I gen­tly touch the sheet that cov­ers you one last time. I stand up and then walk into the tiny bath­room that is attached to the hos­pi­tal ward. Lean­ing over the bowl I try to gath­er my thoughts. It is hope­less. I am blank. I can­not think. I can­not feel. I am numb.

My hand mechan­i­cal­ly reach­es onto my jack­et pock­et and pulls out a plas­tic wrap­per. I bare­ly glance at the label with “mor­phine” writ­ten across the front in bold black let­ters as I drop it in the toi­let bowl. I press the but­ton, star­ing into noth­ing­ness as the wrap­per is flushed away through the sewage sys­tem.

I look up into the mir­ror. It is your face that star­ing back at me. I step back into the room for the final time. It seems dark and still, an empti­ness with­in an empti­ness. The cloy­ing smells and aro­mas appear to have van­ished as I walk slow­ly out of the room and head off up the cor­ri­dor towards the nurs­es sta­tion.

Good­bye my broth­er. Good­bye my twin. Good­bye to half of me.

You see Bro, when I was a lit­tle kid, I kin­da had this prob­lem… I loved you too much to let you go. Now that I am old­er, I kin­da have a prob­lem… I love you too much to make you stay.

I Did Not Say That!

Post Views: 69

Do you want your voice to be heard?

Have you ever found your­self say­ing some­thing to some­one only to have it twist­ed and mis­rep­re­sent­ed at a lat­er date?

 

Have you ever played Chi­nese Whis­pers? Have you ever been the vic­tim of Chi­nese Whis­pers? Sil­ly ques­tion because I think we have all been the vic­tim of whis­pered rumors and twist­ed words before.

“That is not what I said”

“I Did Not Say That!”

When deal­ing with rumors or com­plaints, do you speak out loud­ly and oral­ly cor­rect the mis­takes made?

uh uh bad bad.


That is Not What you Said

Ok how can you prove what I said then?

ahh that is the point. Unless we have proof of the con­ver­sa­tion con­tents via a stenog­ra­ph­er or a taped record­ing then we can’t prove what we said.

Even some­one tak­ing notes of a con­ver­sa­tion can make errors.
Words tran­scribed, trans­lat­ed, orat­ed or dic­tat­ed can be tak­en out of con­text and changed. Just like Chi­nese Whis­pers too.

“That is not what I said”

I found myself scream­ing that state­ment many times late­ly.

In deal­ing with every­thing I am deal­ing with offline at the moment I have learned one valu­able les­son. Well many but the biggest les­son I learned is to

Write it the fuck down!!

Because

 

 

“That is what I said”

 

I think I have become the most pro­lif­ic let­ter writer in Aus­tralia. After hear­ing state­ments from peo­ple I am deal­ing with such as “We have nev­er been told that before” “you nev­er told us that before” and “That is not what you said” I decid­ed that the only way I could back myself up and to prove it indeed is exact­ly “That was what I said” is by writ­ing it down and send­ing it off in print..

So either way, to prove my point or to prove their point I could eas­i­ly ref­er­ence and refer to exactly“What I Said”

“well sir if you refer to my let­ter dat­ed 16th of Octo­ber, page 2 line 16 then you can see 

THAT IT IS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID“.

I have become silent.

My voice is no longer heard. I no longer spend an hour on the phone to cus­tomer com­plaints. Instead I spend five min­utes on hold and find out a fax num­ber, email address or snail mail address of the per­son I real­ly need to be talk­ing to and can help me.

Speak­ing of which, don’t you get tired of the riga­ma­role of phone depart­ments you talk to about any sort of com­plaint. First you orate your issue to the recep­tion­ist and then shes says “hold on please trans­fer­ring you now”. You wait on hold anoth­er fif­teen min­utes and then relate your tale again to a new dude who sounds like he just got out of high school only to find out that it is not dudes depart­ment that you need and he needs to trans­fer you again. In one phone con­ver­sa­tion to Tel­stra regard­ing a mis­take on my phone bill I usu­al­ly talk to peo­ple In India, Perth, Mel­bourne, Syd­ney Bris­bane and the per­son that usu­al­ly even­tu­al­ly helps me is in down­town Dune­doo, in out­back New South Wales with a total pop­u­la­tion 26.

Time of phone call = One hour forty min­utes.
Result of Phone call= Was told to put it in writ­ing and was giv­en an address to send it to.

So yeah..don’t wor­ry or both­er about using your voice..
some peo­ple just don’t lis­ten hear or com­pre­hend
just write it down..
pre­serve it for pos­ter­i­ty..
keep the records..

AKA PAPERTRAIL

because

“This is what I said”

Have you ever wished you had writ­ten it down?

Two Sides

Post Views: 62
Pub­lished 2009

 

Wars, gang fights, school yard bul­ly­ing, assaults, pub brawls and Inter­net fights even are all con­flicts between groups of peo­ple.

A con­flict­ing world we live in..

offline and on…..

We are taught con­flict from Birth. Our lives are mod­eled on con­flict.

From our very sys­tem of Gov­ern­ment..

We have
One Gov­ern­ment leader and Team…
One OPPOSITION Leader and team
Con­flict .. two sides.. teams ….war .. fight….
always an oppo­si­tion .. while I am on that point.. why have an Oppo­si­tion.. why not just have one gov­ern­ment all sit around and nut things out togeth­er..
unit­ed for the greater good…

 

 

 

 

Why do you think the LEGENDS talk of King Arthurs Round Table ?
There was no oppo­si­tion cre­at­ed…

 

today it becomes Sport to take down the oppo­si­tion

To Destroy them at all costs

Through our very sys­tem of sport we are taught con­flict….

we have peo­ple and teams COMPETING …

in con­flict……

Sport emu­lates the age old sys­tem of war­riors .. and once again..

WAR

Sport can be a great thing… but the neg­a­tive side of the coin of sport is the effect it has on a person’s psy­che in rea­gards to RESOLVING CONFLICT .. what­ev­er conflict….our sys­tem has ingrained that need to compete…To get one up.. to score one blow hard­er..
Humans hero wor­ship the win­ners … cheer­ing and egg on the par­tic­i­pants to get the self in a state of excite­ment and the com­pet­i­tive adren­a­lin going. Humans get off on that con­flict… To the vic­tor the spoils
and then turn away from the los­ing team with a com­plete lack of empa­thy..
after all its just fun.???

But really… Ya Know !!!!

noth­ing will ever be solved with con­flict or oppo­si­tion…

Only by res­o­lu­tion

Com­pas­sion
Under­stand­ing
Accep­tance
Dis­cus­sion
Empa­thy
Rea­son­ing
Sym­pa­thy
Com­pre­hen­sion
Matu­ri­ty
Knowl­edge
Intel­li­gence
Per­cep­tivenes
Ratio­nal­i­ty
Rec­on­cile

Resolution

or

Retaliation

 

You decide

 

Hatred Breeds Hatred
Hatred Incites more Hatred
Hatred Attracts Hatred

Hatred Mul­ti­plies Hatred

When does it become fun to get that one up in a bit­ter bat­tle of vin­dic­tive­ness

when is it fun to cheer on at train­wrecks

Screens

Post Views: 21

Screens are all around me
in front of my very eyes.
My life is full of see­ing them
and it makes me want to cry

I’m typ­ing this lit­tle dit­ty
on the screen in front of me
and it makes me real­ly won­der
how life would be if all screen free

I switch on my lit­tle microwave
there is anoth­er one on there
and then I pick my cell­phone up,
the one on there is a small square

There is a tiny one on my cam­era
and on my bread mak­er as well.
To say noth­ing of all the radios
and the alarm clock when it yells.

The kids turn on the tele­vi­sion
and stare blankly at the screen
then they play their twitch­es
as sur­re­al as the weird­est dream

At the air­port depar­ture ter­mi­nal
and in the taxi out of town.
They tell me what to do and when
and where to plant my frown

There are one’s to adjust the tem­per­a­ture
and oth­ers to keep out the sun.
I bet there’s one on my fridge door
Just to make my life more fun

I apply for a job posi­tion
they are screen­ing all the appli­cants
I go to get an x‑ray
this ones angled on a slant

In the insur­ance bro­kers office
there are cubi­cles all round
to keep the work­ers pri­va­cy
screened from oth­er noisy sounds

There are screens to keep the bugs out
and to keep the sun off of the car.
There are ones that tell you where you are
and just when you’ve gone to far.

It used to be just in the cin­e­ma
where we would go to get a dose
and stare off like a zom­bie
squint­ing to bring words up real close

Now my eyes are see­ing rec­tan­gles
but I know its from the screen
on the optic glass­es that I wear
which allow it to be “ob”seen

Words and num­bers flash at me
they are every­where I look
screens reg­u­late my lifestyle
once upon a time it was a book

But the biggest screen of them all
is a hid­den one indeed
it’s the one that peo­ple hide behind
that they real­ly seem to need

I broke my screen long ago
what you see is what you get.
The per­son deep inside of me
is the same per­son you just met

The night before Christmas

Post Views: 19

Twas the night before Christ­mas when all through myspace

Not a blog­ger was stir­ring, not even at Jabs place

The blog­ging was done, the fin­gers packed away

wait­ing for san­ta, when drunk comes to stay.

Shirt­less John and Joko, were snug­gled into bed

Between them was Jes­si­ca, snor­ing off her head

Tit’s Macgee was off dream­ing, of sex­u­al mis­deeds

And Stelf was plot­ting ways, of rela­tion­ships to mis­lead

Then out in cyber­space, came the noise of a crash

Nip fell off Chad, in the din and the bash

Jer­sey ran to the win­dow and threw it open wide

in rushed Crab­by and Kate, he was car­ry­ing his bride

“It is time to par­ty”, he yelled out real loud

and opened the doors, to the huge Myspace crowd

<b>in rushed the crew, full of rah rah and fun

fol­lowed by Rav, hid­ing out from the sun

Crab­by stood on the table and cap­tured the mood

There’s no dra­ma today, just plen­ty of food

The beers in the fridge, the music’s on slow

Wait till nips strips, the mood will then flow

Stone Bryson was pac­ing, hop­ping up and down

Gina was watch­ing John, on her face was a frown

Tila tequi­la was singing, and wig­gling on the pole

Every­one laughed when she fell down a hole

Kate danced with crab­by, and Chad was with Tuck

When sud­den­ly came San­ta, in a noisy dump truck

The back part was full, of gifts of all size

It was too much for jabs, his dick start­ed to rise

Jabs hid behind Tits, but that was bad you see

Cos’ it was­n’t very long, before tits spun to her knee

Just at that time, Stelf the elf hap­pened past

When she saw what she saw, she grew up real­ly fast

The crew was all hap­py, hav­ing a ball of a time

There were presents and gifts, it cost not a dime

Ms K Brown was on stage, telling jokes in her mic

Thank God its Myspace, no writ­ers on strike

Jer­sey girl is drunk and sprout­ing her prose

Joko is smit­ten and hands her a red rose

Jes­si­ca has dis­ap­peared, with the shirt­less one John

I’m sure he is giv­ing her, a spe­cial one for “ron”

 

San­ta sat on his chair, with Stelf by his side

Her shock is now over and tak­en in stride

With a blush on her face and a smile ear to ear

I think I see San­ta Claus, pinch­ing her rear

Over­all the great par­ty, is hailed a suc­cess

As Crab­by kissed Kate, he jumped and pro­fessed

While Kate is my first Love, Myspace is my last

Lets always remem­ber and nev­er let par­ty go past.

Crabby McScrooge

Post Views: 12

R.I.P Will Driscoll  Crab­by
Crab­by McScrooge

We will now con­tin­ue our tale
of the lit­tle grinchy lad
and all the rot­ten rea­sons
that the green kid was so bad

Come Christ­mas time in fes­tive land
Every­one would pack their bags
and head off up to Christ­mas town
there were many gifts to tag

The town lit up like fairy­land
Peo­ple scur­ried here and there
Bad Frosty Direct­ed traf­fic
right around the vil­lage square

The dough­boy stood on the cor­ner
ped­dling out his wares
and Joko was in the kitchen
putting rum in with the pears

The tooth fairy worked the town gate
With the green grinch by his side
There was con­tra­band a plen­ty
that the vis­i­tors were prone to hide

The East­er bun­ny con­duct­ed strip search­es
while the tooth fairy looked on
The grinch just growled dis­plea­sure
as the bun­ny felt up anoth­er blonde

Well the green skin boy got bored
and often he would stray away
He was turned off by those rot­ten men
and so off he would trot to play

But be mind­ful of our sto­ry
how those elves did­n’t want to play
With that lad from christ­mas town
and how they all stayed far away

Now all those elves were busy
and rudolf cracked his whip
The grinch was in the blast­ed way
over his green ass they would trip

They would yell and rant and scream at him
and kick him out­side the shed
They would smash their parcels into him
and bang them on his head

And so the Grinch got real­ly cranky
one christ­mas week in time
His anger built with­in him
until it crossed the line

His ears steamed out in green puffs
of radioac­tive green gas
His flat fat feet would stomp about
and he would yell of all things crass

But no one seemed to look at him
they all rushed by him real­ly fast
and tram­pled poor lit­tle grinchy
as they all hur­ried past

So the grinch then hit the jack­pot
of devi­ous tricks to try
He decid­ed to cre­ate a din
and teach him­self to fly

So he sat there and he pon­dered
things of physics and of math
See if he did­n’t learn his lessons
he would earn the tooth fairies wrath

So his plans formed inside his head
and he went and gath­ered bits
He snuck and raid­ed cup­boards
to find the pieces that would fit

He went and stole the wood
from san­tas old stock­pile
and went and pinched his tools
along with a ham­mer and a file

Soon his plane was ready
to fly about the town
The grinch had saved all rudolfs shit
and marked the spots to throw it down

But he need­ed some more pow­er
his phos­pho­rus was­n’t quite enough
To get the plane all pow­ered up
he need­ed stronger stuff

So he snuck into the work­shop
and had a look around
and opened a few box­es
can you guess what grinchy found

A moth­er lode of pow­er
spread right through the place
The grinch loaded up his arms
and ran out with a grin on his face

So the Grinch built up his air­plane
then stood back straight and tall
I’ll give these bas­tards Christ­mas
wait till the Shit begins to fall

He loaded up the bomb bay
with all of Rudolf’s shit
and then he checked the map again
and planned whos head­’s to hit

He strapped up his new found pow­er cells
and shoved them deep in the back
He filled them with his green gas
nuclear pow­er cells to stack

The Grinch fired up the engine
and shot right into out­er space
He wet his pants and crapped him­self
there was ter­ror on his face

He turned the rock­et right around
and head­ed back to earth
He gath­ered such speed to him
he felt he was about to give birth

As the rock­et sped towards the ground
the grinch was flat­tened by the force
His fuzz hair streamed out behind him
a crash was inevitable of course

But right at the last moment
San­ta Claus was dri­ving by
The Rock­et hit rudolf on the nose
send­ing his nos­trils into his eyes

The rock­et’s course was altered
and missed the town cen­tre by a mile
It crashed into the rein­deers hay
send­ing green poop through­out the pile

In the mid­dle it was lit­tle Grinchy
with crap pour­ing down his head
and now spread all around him
those bat­ter­ies now green and dead

Now All that lumi­nes­ence
was gone from in The Grinch­es skin
He was white and he was crab­by
the same col­or as his kin

No ‑one knows what caused the reac­tion
that reversed the green skin tinge
it was enough to con­fuse poor old san­ta
and sent him off on an old rum binge

That was the Annus Hori­bilis
of San­ta’s Christ­mas town
Green droopy bits of slime­balls
Just kept on rain­ing down

And San­ta had to hire an elf
to write on every box
“bat­ter­ies not includ­ed”
thanks to that lit­tle fox

So if this christ­mas you get a gift
and you see that writ­ten there
you know the grinch has touched your toy
and you know the rea­son’s fair

Because you don’t want lit­tle John­ny
to smile at you at night
to have his lit­tle face grin back
all lumi­nous and bright

So to mums the whole world over
San­ta’s mes­sage to you today
is go out now and buy bat­ter­ies
cos I’ve got none in me sleigh

Blame that lit­tle grinchy one
although I think he has gone to hide
I am sure that all that action
was too much to take in his stride

There was a secret to this sto­ry
and it is real­ly very huge
As now the he lost his green­ness
he’s became Crab­by McScrooge

And thats why old Rudolf’s nose is red
Because you know I nev­er lie
with this lit­tle tale from Christ­mas town
to make you laugh until you cry

But to be sure there will be more tales
from where this dit­ty has sprung
Because I’ve got more sto­ries
wait­ing to roll off my fat ole tongue

MySpace Bloggers

Post Views: 20

The MySpace blog­gers are a fun­ny bunch
of con­tra­dic­tions far and wide
There’s some­thing aboard for evry­one
and dra­mas that just won’t slide

She hates me, no he hates ME
the crap flies here and there
there lots and lots of foot stamps
and peo­ple yelling that it’s just not fair

but in between the hyped up stuff
Sprin­kled like icing caked on top
are some real­ly inter­est­ing peo­ple
who’s sto­ries are a chal­lenge to pop

Are you in for the expe­ri­ence
or just to whinge and have a bitch
do you want to learn some­thing new
or do you just want a ball to pitch

Take it as an edu­ca­tion
a mixed bag full of var­ied tricks
and treat it with the utmost respect
or you’ll only find the bloomin’ pricks

Can You Put The Moon In My Room Mum

Post Views: 25

Writ­ten Novem­ber 2007
I turned the light off in the kitchen before and was hold­ing my three year old daugh­ter Kahleah Celeste in my arms, admir­ing the full moon that was ris­ing straight out­side the win­dow.

We talked about the ring sur­round­ing it and how bright the moon was and how stun­ning the clouds looked cross­ing the moon’s path.
All of a sud­den she turned to me, grabbed my face between her lit­tle fat hands, peered at me earnest­ly from the tip of my nose and said

Can You put the moon in my room mum

I laughed my head off and we then seri­ous­ly dis­cussed how I could put the moon in the cor­ner of her room so that it would­n’t get dark and the scary shad­ows would go away. So my baby girl and the ris­ing full Novem­ber moon inspired this sim­ple lit­tle chil­dren’s night time poem I just wrote.

 

Can you put the moon in my room mum
can you put the moon in my room
it is bright and shiny and full of light
can you put the moon in my roomIt is hang­ing out there in the cold­est night
The glow of a bea­con that turns dark into bright
With a blue ring halo that is such a delight
sur­round­ed by flick­ers of colours com­pet­ing in figh­ta mete­or streaks across, in a fast flash of white
Oh look there’s a space­ship on a galac­tic flight
I won­der at the heav­ens and the uni­ver­sal might
it scares me a lit­tle, I hold thread­bear real tight­Can you put the moon in my room mum
can you put the moon in my room
It will ban­ish the shad­ows and give me sight
can you put the moon in my room

Kahleah Celeste means “Clear Bright Heav­ens”

Seth, the Ant and Love.

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Please Read this With My  Blog -
Brodies World — Liv­ing With Asperg­ers Autism.
I am doing this Blog A Bit Back­wards today and post­ing the night­time before the day­time.
Some­how that seems fit­ting for this fam­i­ly.

 

Pre­quel Sto­ry

I went to pick Kahleah up from day­care ear­ly to get them all ready for the town’s Christ­mas car­ni­val. I walked in and the kids were down the back. I spot­ted Seth, Kahleah’s “boyfriend” play­ing on the ground in front of me. Seths a hand­some strap­ping three year old lad with Celtic dark red hair and hazel eyes. When his dad­dy and I are in the super­mar­ket you will hear the two kids yelling from one end of the super­mar­ket to the oth­er, like a scene out of Romeo and Juli­et meet buy­ing gro­ceries.

Seth : Kahleah Kahleah
Kahleah: Seth, its Seth. Seth where are you Seth
Seth: Kahleah I can seeeee you­u­u­u­uu
Kahleah: Look mum­my it’s Seth, it’s Seth, it’s my boyfriend I have to go and say hel­lo.
Me: But dar­ling we just said good­bye to him at day­care five min­utes ago…

Kahleah pouts until I go up to Seth and his dad, we both sor­ta stand back look­ing uncom­fort­able.  (small coun­try town, not good to be seen chat­ting (*rumours you know*) We just watch and wait until the two lit­tle ones are fin­ished  gos­sip­ing about every­thing under the sun.

My mum­mies buy­ing some milk
My dad­dies buy­ing some bread.……
yad­da yad­da … do adults sound like that to kids?

Any­way when I spot­ted Seth today at day­care, i bent down in front of him. he looked up and shoved a tup­per­ware con­tain­er bowl at my nose.

“Look it’s an ant”.

“Yes Seth it cer­tain­ly is an ant”, I answered, when I final­ly focused on the microdot climb­ing around the bowl towards my left nos­tril.

“I think it’s a mum­my ant, what do you think”, said Seth seri­ous­ly, star­ing into my eyes and shov­ing the bowl clos­er to my nose, so that if I breathed in Seth would­n’t have an ant any­more and I would be well, chok­ing on ant.

“Hmm it might be a mum­my ant indeed.” I say watch­ing as Seth bends down and put his bowl on the ground then get down on his hunch­es peer­ing over the bowl.

“Do you know where your girl­friend is?” I asked, both of us still watch­ing the microdot ant.

“Oh Kahleahs down on the slide near the sand­pit” Seth answered with­out look­ing up, while rais­ing his hand point­ing down to where I could now see Kahleah, busy boss­ing some lit­tle blonde girls around.

The day­care girls were stand­ing behind me watch­ing and lis­ten­ing qui­et­ly and they all burst out laugh­ing at the exchange.

Its so It is fun­ny to them all that Seth and Kahleah have this unbreak­able bond at such a young age. To me it is just my kids. My spe­cial kids seem to pick up oth­er spe­ical kids.

Santa’s Children

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All year long San­ta is busy
watch­ing all the girls and boys
work­ing out which chil­dren
are deserv­ing of San­ta’s toys

See San­ta’s toys aren’t plas­tic
or the flesh and blood you feel
San­ta gift is spir­it
for the soul to take to heal

But some of San­ta’s chil­dren
suf­fered trau­ma deep inside
that any ray of sun­shine
they feel they have to hide

but San­ta learned a les­son
all those years ago
that a smile can beat the hatred
and make spir­it waters flow

Mayet’s Moon Mystery Oct 2005

Post Views: 104

Extra Moon In Pho­to’s ? Pic­ture Weird­ness

I take a lot of shots of sun­sets and sun­ris­es and last night I was out tak­ing pho­tos just on sun­set of the moon and pink clouds.

I was amazed when after one shot I had an image that was not there and then when I came inside to stick the images on my com­put­er I was shocked and flab­ber­gast­ed at the image.

These shots are of the moon. The moon is ris­ing in the East. I was tak­ing the pho­to point­ing due east.

Then I turned around to cap­ture some nice clouds on the moun­tain­top fac­ing due west and then I took the below image stand­ing in the same spot as I took the east­ern moon images but now fac­ing due north north­west. This is the first one I took. Noth­ing unusu­al. I was­n’t going to take any more from this angle because I was­n’t hap­py with the pic­tures but then decid­ed to take a cou­ple more

Now for the amaz­ing shot that still has me shak­ing my head. I know my cam­era. I know how to take pic­tures I know what a smudge on the cam­era looks like, I know what ris­ing smoke looks like and I know what reflec­tions look like.

But this is the moon.….…..In my shot tak­en fac­ing north north west and yet the moon was behind me to the back­side of my head ris­ing in the east? How is this so. Check the cloud for­ma­tions in this pic and the one before.…

I have just shak­en my head and put it down to “the unex­plain­able”.

I took more images, in fact when I saw that come up in the lcd pre­vew screen I went snap mad and point­ed the cam­era all over the sky try­ing to repro­duce the effect…but I could­n’t

 

I will put Pichere for your perusal with kind Mayet’s per­mis­sion.
This has been cropped very close­ly, no col­or cor­rec­tion, gam­ma nor con­trast has been done..Raw crop only.

 

Kameruka The Meeting Tree 2008

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Today I am sit­ting at the farm on the edge of my bed drink­ing a fresh aro­mat­ic cap­puchin­no cof­fee and day­dream­ing. Once, a few weeks ago I would day­dream about the future work I would put into the farm and the ani­mals, today I day­dream about tomor­row, what­ev­er that will bring.

I love sit­ting here. I look out direct­ly at “kameru­ka” the meet­ing tree, with the bird feed­er stand­ing proud­ly at the foot of it. Behind Kameru­ka I can see all the way down to the dam in the back pad­dock and I can just see the top of the water from the bed. Over the next week I am going to intro­duce the ducks to the dam (duck dam) and build them a lit­tle *portable* shel­ter down there. I can see the bright blue sky and steadi­ly dark­en­ing pink tinged clouds through the branch­es of the tees. All around me is the sounds of “the bush” with bird twee­t­er­ing and call­ing each oth­er, mixed in with the occa­sion­al calls from the roost­ers. I can not see a sign of hooman devel­op­ment out my win­dow. Only nature and the joys and won­ders it has to share.

  • Mid­night my adorable bil­ly­goat who ate his lead and came knock­ing at the door for “mid­night snacks”

The yard is sprin­kled with var­i­ous ani­mals all over. The chick­ens are peck­ing for juicy fat grubs in small groups around the bird feed­er and water tanks and the ban­tams are pok­ing their fluffy heads out from the branch­es of the wil­low tree near­by. Arnold and Elwood are sprawled out down near the pen, catch­ing the last late after­noon sun’s rays shin­ing down from between the trees.

Apos­tle Birds, Par­rots, doves and pigeons are scat­tered amongst the chick­ens and ducks, all  fight­ing over the seeds I have strewn along through the grass. Not far away, Ter­rance the turkey is all fluffed out, whoom’ff­ing every minute or so while stand­ing guard over his wives Thel­ma and Louise along with his daugh­ter Tere­sa as they peck around the com­post heap. The goats are all down between my win­dow and the dam, they are start­ing to all lie down and posi­tion them­selves for the cold win­ter’s night ahead. Snowy is look­ing like she willl drop her baby any minute now.

The ani­mals all roam around the yard dur­ing the day now. There is no need to keep them penned. They choose to stay with me and they are free, freer than me .……I know. Every­thing is calm and peace­ful as they all gath­er the last feed before sleep time.

Yes­ter­day I sat down in the grass above the dam after I had moved the goats and giv­en them fresh water in their troughs and I relaxed, pos­si­bly for the first time in years. I sat watch­ing the goats gallo­vant­i­ng around with each oth­er and feed­ing on the green stub­bly weeds in the pad­dock. Dora was reach­ing up on her hind legs to nib­ble at the juicy young gum leaves off the trees and Tof­fee was stand­ing on her tree stump above every­one else, sur­vey­ing her domain.  There was a grunt behind me near where Glen was untan­gling lit­tle Glen the goats rope from the lat­est mess he had got him­self into. I swear when they cut his balls out his brain went with them. I turned to big Glen and watched behind him as Arnold and Elwood the pigs made their way nois­i­ly towards us.

The pigs have quite fas­ci­nat­ing unique per­son­al­i­ties. They scare me a lit­tle after see­ing them kill one of the chick­ens when she was injured and then tear her apart. I see the dan­ger­ous pos­si­bil­i­ties there. Maybe they have a fair bit of fer­al (wild) blood in them because they could turn quite fero­cious I think.

Arnold, the spot­ted pig is the leader of the pair. She is much larg­er and fat­ter than her black sis­ter and much more extro­vert­ed. They still don’t like human con­tact or to be touched, even by me and they express their dis­plea­sure very loud­ly in grunts and squeals if you reach out to them. If the oth­er ani­mals get in their way at the food trays they shove them aside with their snouts and stand on the trays, hoof deep in slop food, pig­ging away.

The water trough is fun­ny to watch. All the chick­ens line up along it drink­ing from it. When they have all had a good drink and the ducks have had a wash down, Arnold and Elwood come and have a bath. One at a time they climb into the trough and roll around in it hav­ing a grand old time.  The water trough is made out of a 44 gal­lon plas­tic drum which has been sliced in half so when the pigs jump in, the whole trough rolls from side to side with them. They seem to have more fun than most peo­ple at a water­park.

They showed anoth­er side yes­ter­day though. They trot­ted nois­i­ly up behind Glen towards me and Arnold came and sat down beside me. She stared at me. I stared at her. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind at that point in time… It was prob­a­bly some­thing like “where’s the food bitch, I’m hun­gry”. After all Arnold is a real pig and a con­stant food shred­ding machine.

I stayed still but still talked to Glen while me and Arnold sat there enjoy­ing each oth­ers com­pa­ny. Elwood looked at Arnold and I with a look of dis­gust and she soon squealed loud­ly and went and buried her­self in some soft dirt over near mid­night the bil­ly goat. Arnold just sat beside me, seem­ing­ly enjoy­ing the tran­quil­i­ty as much as I did.

They say pigs are intel­li­gent. I see that in many ways but I would more call it cun­ning. I have watched them walk up to a bar­ri­er I have just erect­ed and put their bull­doz­er snouts under­neath to lift it up. Then they just walk on through. “Pig Proof” is hard to achieve. They are great at dig­ging gar­dens, if that could be con­trolled in the area I want it, then I would­n’t need a rotary hoe. They bury their snout in the ground and just fur­row along with brute strength and force, not unlike a min­ing machine. When­ev­er I walk down the yard with the blue feed buck­et now I feel like the pied piper of Ham­lin. I am fol­lowed by two pigs at my heels try­ing to trip me up, 8 goats, 5 ducks, 4 and a half turkeys, a sprin­kling of roosers, var­i­ous silkies and ban­tams and 11 Rose­mary’s (the brown lay­er chick­ens are all called Rose­mary because you can’t dif­fer­en­ti­ate between them. *sigh I real­ly need my cam­era back)

*inter­jec­tion.. I hate run­ning out of cof­fee halfway through a cig­a­rette while writ­ing a blog.…I’ll be right back…

That is bet­ter where was I.. ah the dam and the pigs…

Arnold sat with me and enjoyed the tran­quil­i­ty a while longer before she decid­ed I had no food for her so with a grunt towards her sis­ter, she trot­ted slow­ly down into the dam. Elwood wig­gled her­self up and fol­lowed. Soon the two pigs were in the dam togeth­er hav­ing a fan­tas­tic time “mud bathing” They made sure they were both smoth­ered in mud before they came back up the bank and shook them­selves like dogs do. They wan­dered off back up towards the pen.It is quite amaz­ing to watch the con­nec­tion between the two pigs. They flow togeth­er in move­ments, turns and speeds and always seem to head in same direc­tion. When they are sep­a­rat­ed they squeal to let each oth­er know where they are.

As I sat there I real­ized how con­tent inside I am. How relax­ing my envi­ron­ment has become. How much at peace I am from a tur­moiled soul.

It is all so relax­ing. It is calm­ing and peace­ful. I feel at peace. No mat­ter what “mur­phisms” are going on around me, I still feel calm and at peace inside. I know its the farm and the atmos­phere I have built here that is respon­si­ble for my inner peace.

A tiny pierc­ing sharp pain runs through my heart as I think about how soon it will all be tak­en from me. I have my gar­den seeds ready to plant out but no desire to do so. Will I be here to reap what i sow? Lit­er­al­ly.….

What will tomor­row bring?

The still­ness sur­round­ing me calms my soul and allows me to car­ry on. I have dreams, I have goals I have plans.…I have hope and aslong as hope remains.…… life is good…

Foot­note 1

I will answer com­ments on my pri­or blog short­ly. As I am writ­ing this my net is down once again. It went down for three hours late last night as well. I don’t get to spend much time on here and so I was rather piffed that it did it when I did have the time to sit down and “surf” myspace.

Foot­note 2

To update every­one about the goats. I have par­tial­ly solved the mys­tery. After speak­ing to the coun­cil and rais­ing my con­cenrs that this was a “nui­sance call” over my “nui­sance goats”, it was tracked down. At first the source of the mys­tery could­n’t be found but after a few hours and a call back it was explained… Some­one drove passed my house and “appar­ent­ly” saw my goats near or on the road so they rang coun­cil. Coun­cil came straight out and could find no goats any­where near the road but saw my goats way down near the house. So the paper­work was gen­er­at­ed because they had come out here.

We both remarked how strange the whole thing was and I had pre­vi­ous­ly explained that the goats nev­er went any­where near the front, the front fence or out the front gate. They are scared of their own shad­ow, let alone traf­fic and noise. They have nev­er been near there. As she said… coun­cil found NOTHING when they came out straight away so yeah.… hmmm. it was around the same day that the first house inspec­tion hap­pened.… co inci­dence or fun­ny pecu­liar I don’t know. But at least the coun­cil knows now that it may be a trou­ble­mak­er. They admit­ted it did­n’t come from any neigh­bours. In fact they did­n’t even have a name of who did report it.. sus eh..

Foot­note 3..

Franken­fish and his four wives are doing great. Of an after­noon they all gath­er near the top of the pond wait­ing for the girls to come out with their dai­ly feed rations. Frank is still about three times the size of his wives but they are all grow­ing and thriv­ing in the pond. They are quite pret­ty to watch swim­ming around and nib­bling at the food.

Foot­note 4

I can’t do much oth­er than sit here on the bed and gri­mace or cry out every now and then. I pulled my back out rather bad­ly when feed­ing the ani­mals so I am enjoy­ing the rest while I am forced to endure it.. I hate being ill or injured.. I tried lift­ing the feed­bags this morn­ing and now I can bare­ly move my right leg.. arggh­hh .. I’ll be right in a cou­pla days.. noth­ing keeps me down long..

Blackberries

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Pub­lished 2008

I wrote this one the oth­er day for Jer­sey Girl and Munch. Yes Munch you hand­some dev­il, you inspired this lit­tle dit­ty. (rip munch)

So this is in trib­ute to Jer­sey Girl’s black­ber­ry con­test.

She is hot she is ready
and she is will­ing to go
then she tells you some­thing
that you did­n’t want to know

you lean back then to lis­ten
with your fin­gers deep inside
between that lux­u­ry soft­e­ness
your hand just gen­tly glides

She stops what she is doing
and looks up into your eye
she starts to speak the dread­ed words
that are going to make you cry

your body is work­ing over­drive
dicks as hard and stiff as rock
hur­ry and fin­ish telling this
all I want to do is have a FOK

She smiles that sweet coy smile now
and wraps her hands around your gun
it twitch­es up towards her
as the juices start to run

hun­ny you know I want you
and your tongue between my thighs
I want you doing dirty deeds
but I can­na tell a lie

tis the time for me of black­ber­ries
the juicy gift from all the gods
that come rain­ing down from heav­en
and make for berry messy clods

So unless you want your face red
or to look like fred­dies revenge
I would­n’t dine down there tonight
in that slick gooey black­ber­ry menge

you take your hand from with­in her
dang you had four fin­gers in
you place your hand upon her back
and let out a lit­tle grin

as you rub her shoul­ders lov­ing­ly
and mas­sage up her curvy back
you lay her gen­tly on the bed
your dicks now on the slack

you cup her face into your hands
and gaze deep into her eyes
there will always be anoth­er day
but for now I have to fly

it takes a minute to reclothe
and leave her snor­ing on the bed
she is smil­ing that secret smile again
as dreams of teas­ing are in her head

you close the door to the apart­ment
and get into the tow­er’s lift
you won­der what her hus­band will think
as he arrives to your fin­ger­print­ed gift

Thanks to which most of myspace has a new slang term to add to their vocab.

Thanks to the judges, the con­tes­tants and thanks most­ly to those friends and read­ers that vot­ed my entry. It was a fun time to be had by all.

Munch­es was the best by far and hence why his lit­tle dit­ty inspired this lit­tle dirty dit­ty.

True Blue

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I have often been asked about my wicked sense of humor and fun and where it came from. Many of you will know about my Dear old Dad and the rolling pin so you can guess where much of it comes from but it is more than that.

It is a cul­tur­al and nation­wide way of look­ing at life that is unique­ly Aus­tralian.

Aus­tralian’s often are labeled “laid­back” and “casu­al” with the abil­i­ty to laugh at our­selves as a nation as well as find­ing the fun things and the humor­ous side of events. We are indeed in gen­er­al very casu­al and laid­back, espe­cial­ly when it comes to our own selves. Maybe it is a part of our proud con­vict her­itage. Every Aus­tralian proud­ly claims at least one first Fleet con­vict as their own ansces­tor. We are hon­est and forth­right.. per­haps a non polit­i­cal cor­rect species but we say what we think.

On the oth­er hand Aus­tralian’s are also coura­geous, loy­al and strong willed. We make great friends and the word “mate” is a val­ued part of our vocab­u­lary. Aus­tralian’s will walk a mile for their mates when the “chips are down” and will be there for them when called. We help oth­ers and do not turn our backs on peo­ple who need help. Although sad­ly once again as time march­es for­ward in the new mil­le­ni­um peo­ple every­where are becom­ing cold­er and more heart­less.. con­cerned with the chase for the dol­lar rather than giv­ing a per­son a hand up

Aus­tralian’s have a built in “Bull­shit detec­tor” and do not suf­fer fools glad­ly. An Aussie will tell you that you are full of it with­out a blink of an eye. We are an straight­for­ward lit­tle quirky species that sees beyond what is pre­sent­ed to us and that allows us to take away a full col­or pal­lete of events.

We are a mul­ti­cul­tur­al race of peo­ple.. Aus­tralia is only a few hun­dred years old so an Aus­tralian’s ansces­tors can come from any­where in the world but we are all Aus­tralian.
We trea­sure our leisure. We used to find enjoy­ment in the sim­ple things.. beer and bar­be­ques, a drink down the pub with our mates, footy on week­ends, camp­ing and fish­ing in the bush. All that is chang­ing as hi soci­ety, tech­nol­o­gy and urban pres­sure starts to pre­vade and over­take our lives.

But we still stand on our colo­nial roots. We have an expres­sion for some­thing that is Aus­tralian and is REAl ..
that is

“True Blue”

I was raised in a “True Blue” envi­ron­ment. My Dad made sure of that by show­ing me so much of our beau­ti­ful land as a child and by intro­duc­ing to to just about every sin­gle “Aussie Char­ac­ter” that ever lived in the “Real Aus­tralia”. I lived the aussie dream as a kid. I was so lucky to have such a wide vari­ety of expe­ri­ences and such a deep intro­duc­tion and edu­ca­tion of this beau­ti­ful land and the unique peo­ples.

I remem­ber being nine years old and camp­ing in the mid­dle of Aus­trali­a’s cen­tral desert at a place called Dev­ils Mar­bles. I had­n’t both­ered pitch­ing a tent as expe­ri­enced had shown me that it was impos­si­ble to ham­mer tent pegs into rock ground, so I had laid the tent out as a ground sheet then inflat­ed my matress and “bob’s your uncle” … I was ready for bed .. sleep­ing under a blan­ket of stars in the outback..That night I will nev­er for­get and I still see the sky that night clear­ly in my min

I have relat­ed ear­li­er the sto­ry of assist­ing the guests to try and pitch their tents by show­ing them the soft­est ground pos­si­ble but being “noobs” as they were, they kept try­ing to ham­mer into sol­id rock.

There was anoth­er side of this event that is typ­i­cal­ly Aus­tralian and True Blue. Lat­er that night the team leader and my dad got every­one togeth­er and held a “kan­ga­roo court” around the fire. This was a mock court tri­al where all the guests were put on tri­al for their “crimes”. My mum was up first. Mum’s crime was to fall asleep in the Coach with her mouth open snor­ing. her Kan­ga­roo Court pun­ish­ment was to have her mouth taped up with duct tape for three hours that morn­ing while trav­el­ing. When it got to me, my crime was talk­ing to much all the time so I got the duct tape treat­ment too.. except I kept dis­solv­ing in a fit of gig­gles and rip­ping it off. Anoth­er old­er girl and guy on the trip had got­ten real “close” to each oth­er so they were sen­tenced to be tied by the arm to oth­er part­ners for the day and anoth­er cou­ple of guys who hat­ed each oth­er were sen­tenced to be tied togeth­er and to sleep in the same tent. Then it came the turn of the lit­tle group of guests who kept pitch­ing their tents in the sol­id rock. What a trav­es­ty in Aus­tralia. What a crime.. Aussies who just can’t “camp out” prop­er like. Their pun­ish­ment was to have to be the first out of the coach every night for the remain­der of the trip and have their tent up ready for inspec­tion with­in five min­utes with every­one watch­ing and cheer­ing them on. Con­sid­er­ing they had nev­er pitched a tent with­in an hours time this was quite some chal­lenge for the group and a hell of a lot of laughs for all of us.…It was all a riot of laugh

Thats just Aussie humour.. and laugh­ing at our­selves.… True Blue
Aus­tralian Come­di­ans Writ­ers Poets and artists of all kinds have influ­enced our way of think­ing immensly over time just as soci­ety at the time has been reflect­ed in these peo­ples work. I grew up around camp­fires and in “aussie pubs” lis­ten­ing to these peo­ple per­form and laugh­ing my ass off the entire time. These peo­ple made us as a nation, laugh at our­selves, at our odd­i­ties and quirks and at the things that dif­fer­en­ti­at­ed us from the rest of the world.

Leg­ends like Kevin Bloody Wil­son and Rod­ney Rude paved the way for a unique style of com­e­dy that is total­ly Aus­tralian. Every Aussie over the age of 30 can recite and sing these and oth­er Aussie leg­end’s songs when drunk and dis­or­der­ly. It is part of our cul­ture and the pop­u­lar­i­ty of these guys helped a nation have the abil­i­ty to laugh at them­selves.

Enter­tain­ers like Steve Irwin and Croc­o­dile Dundee would not have made sense to the world and espe­cial­ly to Aussies, if these pio­neers had­n’t blazed a trail of “Aus­sism” across the world before them. These Come­di­ans and enter­tain­ers had total­ly polit­i­cal­ly incor­rect mate­r­i­al but all True Blue Aussie. So what do we do today with this work of the years that have passed that is so polit­i­cal­ly incor­rect?

Do we as Aus­tralians toss out and ignore an impor­tant part of our her­itage because it is so polit­i­cal­ly incor­rect? Do we now “act” embar­rassed about our prime come­di­ans and enter­tain­ers like Kevin Bloody Wil­son and Rod­ney Rude and pre­tend they nev­er exist­ed? Do we now whis­per their names in shame or scratch their names off our famous peo­ple lists?

Do we stop laugh­ing now because we are told we are not sup­posed to think that it is fun­ny any­more? Were we as a nation wrong to think it was fun­ny in the first place?

I freely admit it.. These guys inspired me…

Wonder Woman

Post Views: 76

Today I am going to do some­thing a lit­tle dif­fer­ent

but then that is me. Mrs Dif­fer­ent.

When I was a lit­tle kid I loved watch­ing two shows on Sat­ur­days. I had to watch these shows and my fam­i­ly soon real­ized that to allow me to watch them was the best for their peace, tran­quil­i­ty and health. I real­ly looked for­ward to Sat­ur­days because of these two shows. Oh plus hav­ing no school and a full day to explore my world helped.

On Sat­ur­day morn­ings, in amongst my week­ly car­toon dose and fill-up was a show I loved, called “The Secret of ISIS”.

And on Sat­ur­day nights, well there was WONDER WOMAN.

Won­der Woman rocked. Espe­cial­ly the way she would casu­al­ly toss her shiny Brunette mane of hair at the same time as her lit­tle thin gold­en rope and with a secret lit­tle coy smile on her face she would trap and entwine her das­tard­ly tar­gets.

To a kids eyes, she ruled. She showed and taught me so much. I learned that it was ok to be strong, vir­tu­ous and coura­geous and it was ok at the same time to be a lady. That was what was best about her to me. Her fem­i­nin­i­ty. Xena War­rior Princess came well after Won­der Woman as an Ama­zon­ian War­rior female but some­how I just can­not imag­ine Xena show­ing up for her lat­est beau­ti­cian’s appoint­ment after just slay­ing the giants. Or admir­ing the lat­est por­trai­ture at the local gallery fol­lowed by din­ner at a French restau­rant and washed down with soft music and drinks after a busy day sword fight­ing with Mars. I liked Xena well enough, I had to as I had an Ex hus­band that Wood­ied over her as well as a child who idol­ized her but to me, she just was­n’t Won­der Woman.

Won­der Woman was refined and cul­tured. She was dig­ni­fied and hum­ble. Won­der Woman was always on the side of truth, jus­tice, the weak and pow­er­less and all things good in the world. She was strong and intu­itive. She was gra­cious and charm­ing. Every­thing that embod­ies and encom­pass­es WOMAN was with­in WONDER WOMAN. She was woman and is woman. All women have a lit­tle of Won­der Woman deep down inside them. She was every­thing that I admired as a small child and every­thing that I want­ed to be when I grew up.

Oh except the red blue and gold suit dis­as­ter.. sor­ry hun, not my col­ors.. some­thing flow­ing and pur­ple, with some blues and pinks through it may­haps. And real­ly, a tiny skirt would have helped.. yes you have love­ly child bear­ing hips but there is some­things that should be del­i­cate­ly hid­den. SEE ISIS – Her lit­tle pleat­ed skirt num­ber rocked.

.and those boots.. what hap­pened to a sim­ple nice pair of Black CFM boots.

Kids need Heroes and Super­heroes to idol­ize and wor­ship who are always humbly fight­ing the bad and sin­gle hand­ed­ly sav­ing the world in their mild man­nered way so that as those kids grow up they will try to be that hero­ic good per­son, qui­et­ly off sav­ing the world from evil and harm.

 

Dear World — A letter from Santa

Post Views: 32

My name is frig­gin San­ta Claus
You had bet­ter get it right
I only come round once a year
In the mid­dle of the night

I make toys for all the chil­dren
and for grown up kids as well
They all sit on San­ta’s knee
and whine and have a yell

Please San­ta Claus I want a bike
I want a skate­board or two
Give me a brand new surf­board
It makes san­ta want to spew

You always say that you’ve been good
But we both know that’s not true
I remem­ber all those things you did
when you thought I nev­er knew

I ho ho here, I ho ho there
and get fat­ter by the day
I smile and grin and wave a lot
And ignore what you have to say

You ask for gold and dia­monds
I brings you socks and pants instead
You think your get­ting what you want
I bring you lumps of lead.

I haven’t seen my toes in years
My bum scrapes on the ground
I wear a stu­pid red suit
And my sac that weighs 10 pound

I’m mar­ried to a bloomin’ witch
They call her Mrs Claus
I’m always walk­ing eggshells
She’s always ban­gin’ doors

She’s mean an yells and stamps a lot
and rages on all the year
I love it when she gets that mad
She blows wind out from her rear

But she cooks me choco­late brown­ies
So I think I’ll keep her around
And those deli­cious yum­my pork chops
That make my bel­ly face the ground

I’ve got some bloody rein­deer
along with a very stu­pid one.
They call him Rudolph red nose
I could just kick him up the bum

He gets into my wood­shed
and leaves his Shit in there.
He sneaks into my rum room
and gets pissed as a polar bear

I’m sure the elves are grow­ing weed
Out beyond the gar­den shed
They sneak out there for hours
and come back inside a blood­shot red

I par­ty with the tooth fairy
the east­er bun­ny comes to stay
I dig it when they come around
It means it’s time to play

We go out to the strip­per bar
To an igloo in the next town
the east­er bun­ny buys the drinks
we all perve and skol it down

So If you hear San­ta com­ing
Cov­er the kid­dies ears real tight
I’m off vis­it­ing the girls next door
and spread­ing love and light

to par­ents the whole world over
I have a mes­sage to send to you
If you fan­cy being in my bad books
Then don’t clean the chim­ney flue

If you have a fire blaz­ing hot
Make sure I’ve some­where to land
Cos if I burn my feet one more time
I won’t be capa­ble to stand

If You don’t have a chim­ney
don’t lock the blast­ed door
You don’t real­ly expect San­ta Claus
To climb up the through kitchen floor

I’m sick of milk and cook­ies
They just pour out my bum
I demand some care and qual­i­ty
Please leave out the top shelf rum

And if you are hot and sin­gle
Please turn on the bed­side light
Because San­ta wants to vis­it you
And stay right through the night

I know this let­ter is an epic
But it’s all in fun and free
The mag­ic that is Christ­mas
This is my gift for you to see!!
Mayet
(South Pole San­ta)

Polygamy and Raids

Post Views: 75

April 2008

May has some­thing to say and her fin­gers did the walk­ing.…. *grins

Last week I touched on the sto­ry of the polyg­a­mist com­pound raid in texas that has seem­ing­ly polar­ized the nation.

I found I have more to say on this mat­ter. SO I decid­ed to blog it today and open some dis­cus­sion.

These bad men were caught and stopped from vio­lent­ly rap­ing and beat­ing their many wives. Chil­dren were being raped and impreg­nat­ed and held against their will. The author­i­ties did a great job in bring­ing these freaks down.

Is that how you saw it?

Yes that is the way it has been pre­sent­ed but after watch­ing it all over the past week some ques­tions are start­ing to raise in my head. Lots of them. main­ly about the wrongs and rights of the whole she­moz­zle.

On the sur­face, in the eyes of men and women in Amer­i­ca today, these women and chil­dren are supressed and abused and liv­ing an attr­cious life.

But are they? Or are we judg­ing these peo­ple to our own social stan­dards?

There is some “issues” I have with the whole debar­cle.

In the 90’s there was anoth­er Tex­an cult. The name David Koresch still to this day sends fear into the hearts of peo­ple around the world and the whis­pered word “cult” soon gets bandied around. In 1996 tanks, armed gun­men, heli­copters and army all invad­ed the Waco com­pound and with­in 30 min­utes there was over 100 dead. At first every­one bought the jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for the raid but soon things emerged that were not quite right. Mis­takes were made. fatal ones.

Now we have the armed com­man­do raid on this polygamy com­pound.

Polygamy right or wrong.

Today as a species we have moved that far from all that is nat­ur­al that WE HAVE FORGOTTEN what is nat­ur­al to us. We have for­got­ten instinct and what is right.

I am not say­ing that polygamy is the way to go for the human race but lets look at nat­ur­al selec­tion for a minute here. It is all around you in nature. The sur­vival of the fittest, only the strongest genes car­ry through. The fight for alpha sta­tus in the tribe and the right to “have the women”. In the kan­ga­roo pop­u­la­tion and I know the same goes for lions in Africa, there are large amounts of juve­nile rogue wan­der­ers. The alpha male gets his pride of females and the juve­nile males are cast out to fight amongst them­selves for supre­me­cy and they wan­der, to find an even­tu­al mate.

Humans used to do this too but then some­thing hap­pened. Oh yes I can hear you say­ing it now. Humans became “civ­i­lized”. Cit­i­zen, civil­ian, servi­tude, ser­vant slave. Oh that right. yes we became con­trolled.

So when we look at nature we can see that polygamy is a nat­ur­al occur­ance to ensure the sur­vival of the fittest. Ok then, so who told us this was wrong, Oh thats right, the bible, the same book that tells us to treat women as chat­tels (Chris­tian­i­ty is the ulti­mate patri­archial reli­gion and sun/son fire male wor­ship­per), it also tells us that homo­sex­u­als should be killed and I could go on with the crap that was writ­ten because of that con­trol. So I should lis­ten to this book that incites hatred should I or should I lis­ten to the birds and the bees and the flow­ers and the trees.. and a lit­tle thing called LOVE.

Who are we to judge how these peo­ple live their lives? Who are we to take their chil­dren. Who are we to tell them the way they are liv­ing is wrong.

Can you say glasshouse and humungous rocks.. boul­ders in fact.….….

Lets look at the dirty side of the coin. These peo­ple work hard, they “slave” away in gar­den to acheive self suf­fi­cien­cy for their fam­i­lies. Their chil­dren are along­side them. We slave away in con­crete office block, work­ing our lives for the man and ignor­ing our chil­dren, leav­ing them to school and day cen­tres to raise.

They pro­duce their own food. Pure and nat­ur­al and not a drain on sys­tem. We pro­duce GM tox­in enriched foods that are slow­ly or fast­ly destroy­ing our plan­et and food chain. We buy hor­mon­al chick­en and feed on madon­alds and oth­er assort­ed fast foods. They live in a qui­et peace­ful soci­ety, rel­a­tive free of crime. We live in a greedy 7 dead­ly sins soci­ety of any­thing goes that is full of dan­gers to us and chil­dren.

They have great access to health care. Many have glass­es and braces on teeth. They are warm and sur­round­ed by love.

These peo­ple have seen the evils in soci­ety today and cho­sen to live apart form it. They see that mankind has sown the seeds for his own destruc­tion and so they have pre­pared them­selves to be an enclosed unit. If this so called dred­ed bird flu sweeps our coun­tries. Who has more chance of sur­vival. Will you have a bet­ter chance in the mid­dle of a big city or town fight­ing for med­ical help, fight­ing for food and water, sur­round­ed by greed. Or these peo­ple who have lov­ing­ly pre­pared them­selves for such an even­tu­al­i­ty. And don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a far fetched anal­o­gy. in 22 arti­cle I pulled up on the bird flu in 2006, every sin­gle one of them had the exact same line in it. Sci­en­tist have FEARS and WARN that the bird flu will mutate into a DEADLY PANDEMIC. wow all thsoe fears.. can you image the chaos when it starts.

These peple wear fun­ny dress­es. Have you seen a goth or an emo late­ly? I actu­al­ly admired the pas­tel col­ors and the neat clean and tidy appear­ance of the fam­i­lies.

 

They share a hus­band. Well lets get down to this. I’ve spo­ken to polyg­a­mists and read and watched many things over the years in my efforts to under­stand. From a wom­ans point of view. She shares chores, instead of her­self doing every­thing, those house­hold tasks are shared, in com­pa­ny, the child mind­ing is shared. Then there is the com­pa­ny and the sup­port. Women need to have their “girls”, some­one to talk to, share fears, com­fort them and to sup­port them in areas that men’s brains are just not wired for. The sup­port and friend­ship between polyg­a­mist wives is incred­i­ble. They are clos­er than sis­ters. They care only about the fam­i­ly. The whole fam­i­ly. That is their gig in life. Their fam­i­ly.

and lets face it girls… you know those nights that you have a headache? ..No such wor­ry.. no pes­ter­ing with the wood­peck­er in the back all night..

In any cul­ture you have rogue ele­ments. Espe­cial­ly ones that can infil­trate such an oga­ni­za­tion and use or be used by oth­ers. Our own chaot­ic and deviant soci­ety full of crimes drugs and abusers infects the very air these peo­ple breathe. So even if they choose o live away from soci­ety, they have no choice but to face soci­eties con­se­quences. They will get freaks and odd­balls try­ing to join for their own agen­da.

It brings me to mind the witch tri­als and reli­gious per­se­cu­tion of the ear­ly cen­turies. Burn them. Kill them, they are dif­fer­ent.

Are we going to raid nud­ist camps next and take their kids?

So every­one cries out “but there was an alle­ga­tion of abuse”

When an orga­ni­za­tion becomes to big and inde­pen­dant for their boots and starts hav­ing peo­ple lis­ten to them and achieve some inde­pen­dance from the sys­tem a cam­paign is start­ed, to desto­ry cred­i­bil­i­ty and to give a ‘rea­son” for the takeover and bring­ing down of inde­pen­dance. How easy would it be, to slip some­one next to a known sex offend­er and have him whis­per in his ear about this mag­ic place where he could have 4 or 5 young women all at once. Zap, dude would­n’t even ask ques­tions except for direc­tions before he would be off like a shot. Done deed, let nature take its course and two years lat­er a whis­pered phone call alleg­ing abuse of a girl who has since not been found, is all the excuse you need.

Until 1830 or so the legal age of con­sent in Eng­land was 13. There are still many nations where the age of con­sent is that low. Do we run in with com­man­do raids to those coun­tries and take over with guns and take the chil­dren oh wait we used mis­sion­ar­ies for that.. cos the bible told us so.…do we march in and tell them they are liv­ing wrong, they should live like us in con­crete jun­gles, with arti­fi­cial food, shit­ty health ser­vices, crimes, drugs, divorce, abuse and *sigh.….…. yeah.…..

50 years ago in Aus­tralia we had the stolen gen­er­a­tion of Aus­tralians. A whole gen­er­a­tion of abo­rig­i­nal babies tak­en from their moth­ers and placed with white fam­i­lies because they had a bit of white in them. (well hey, I have a bit of black in me, does it make it right for abo­rig­i­nals to take my chil­dren and return them to the tribe? tit for tat). It was done because soci­ety said it was wrong for those chil­dren to live with their fam­i­lies, it was wrong for white chil­dren to live with black fam­i­lies. It destroyed a gen­er­a­tion.

Today the gov­ern­ment says sor­ry it was wrong.. small peace of mind for the stolen ones

40 years ago babies were tak­en from sin­gle moth­ers and adopt­ed out. The moth­ers were told it was wrong, that it was a sin, that it was a crime. Anoth­er gen­er­a­tion destroyed. Those chil­dren did­n’t get an apol­o­gy.. unlike­ly they ever will.. they just see the con­fu­sion of a soci­ety that accepts and con­dones and encour­ages in some areas what they were cast out for at birth.

You see as many read­ers know I was one of those chil­dren, tak­en from my moth­er who was 18. SHe was told it was a sin to have me and not be mar­ried. I was tak­en from her arms and adopt­ed into a nice chris­t­ian fam­i­ly and led to believe all my live as a child that my moth­er had sinned. I was that much of a shame­ful sin that i was­n’t even afford­ed the lux­u­ry of a labour ward and mater­ni­ty ward. No I was born behind a sheet to hide me from the sur­round­ing dead bod­ies, in a morgue. The shame of my birth was that great that I was bought into life in the bow­els of death. Can you imag­ine how I felt as a sin­gle moth­er of 19 hold­ing my fuzzball of a baby daugh­ter in my arms for the first time? The first ever touch and bond with any­thing of my blood? The thoughts of how some­one could have their baby tak­en away.….

I grew up ask­ing why. Why was I so bad and so sin­ful that no one want­ed me. I grew up to find out I was stolen so in turn their was some­one else out there ask­ing why was I tak­en from them. My broth­er is a won­der­ful per­son. He has a great job, a beau­ti­ful fiancee, a baby on the way, a new home and a gen­tle nature.… he is loved and adored by his moth­er, they are very close, they talk every­day and the bond betwen them is incred­i­ble.… his moth­er, our moth­er should be proud of him and she is. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my adop­tive par­ents and wor­ship the gorund they walk on, they have done so much for me.

I was judged before I was born and have been ever since. My life’s choic­es have nev­er been conventional..they nev­er were, how could they be when con­ven­tion­al­i­ty was ripped from my grasp with my first breath of air. It has giv­en me some­thing I am hap­py with. A per­spec­tive of look­ing at things form all sides.… not just the one that is being fed to me.. I can feed myself and pre­fer a fork to a spoon.

I guess what I am say­ing is .. you have lis­tened to the media blitz on these 400 or so chil­dren and yes the tri­al will be the best cir­cus I’ve watched for many years. You have seen that nice lady say­ing how she had tak­en cus­tody of all those chil­dren to fos­ter them out and go to court. Those chil­dren were tak­en from their par­ents by the gov­ern­ment because they were dif­fer­ent. What was wrong with going in and work­ing with these peo­ple. Oh we have heard that there is some­thing going on here.. ra ra…

No we had to have the “phonecall” the “excuse” the “media cir­cus” and jus­ti­fi­ca­tion. This sends a mes­sage to the peo­ple .. hmm is it a good one or is it fear? I hope you have looked at the pho­tos I have put here and I hope you have looked at the oth­er side of this coin and the impli­ca­tions of the loss of free­dom. No I do not con­done abuse. There is abuse every­where. If one child is abused in a day­care cen­tre are all the chil­dren tak­en from their moth­ers?

This is abuse.

This sure looks like love to me.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/YFZ_Ranch

 

Sarah

Post Views: 36

Sarah stopped and straight­ened, wip­ing the sweat from her brow as she looked around at the moun­tains sur­round­ing her. It was a steamy spring day in the trop­ics of Aus­tralia. On the hori­zon threat­en­ing fore­bod­ing stom clouds gath­ered and slow­ly drift­ed inland.

She turned to review her morn­ing accom­plish­ment in the gar­den and walked back slow­ly towards the farm­house to make lunch for her her­self and her small son Bai­ley, who was play­ing qui­et­ly under the man­go tree which was burst­ing with pre sea­son fruit near­by.

As she stepped into the house, she stopped a moment and frowned, peer­ing out­side again into the sun­shine. It was so still, unusu­al­ly so for this time of day, calm and very silent. No birds were chirp­ing away in the trees that were gen­tly sway­ing on the hills nor were the rab­bits skip­ping over the mead­ows and play­ing hide and seek with each oth­er. “Eerie”.

She shrugged as she stepped inside and went to switch the tele­vi­sion on as she made the sand­wich­es.

She froze as the pic­ture came on and the voice boomed into the room. The mid­day news­cast­er was high­ly agi­tat­ed as he splut­tered out his lines. Sera lis­tened and watched intent­ly, try­ing to grasp exact­ly what she was hear­ing.

“I repeat, New Zealand has been total­ly destroyed by a mas­sive vol­canic erup­tion and numer­ous death­ly shock­waves that have caused the island coun­try to sub duct between two tec­ton­ic plates. It is believed that hun­dreds of thou­sands of lives have been lost in the cat­a­str­phic dis­as­ter”

“No, thought Sarah and shook her head, this can­not be hap­pen­ing and leaned for­ward to hear more.

The news­cast­er con­tin­ued, Sarah’s face and body was begin­ning to reg­is­ter the hor­ror and enor­mi­ty of what she was hear­ing. A chain reac­tion had occurred along the Pacif­ic plate, start­ing with deep quakes reg­is­ter­ing in the New Guinea region and after a peri­od of calm it seemed all hell had bro­ken loose. Vol­ca­noes spew­ing molten lava had sud­den­ly sprung up along the pacif­ic and naz­ca plate edges where it inter­sect­ed with small­er plates, instant­ly cre­at­ing new islands where none had pre­vi­ous­ly exist­ed. The stress­es caused from the plates shift had caused quakes all over the plan­et at it’s weak­est spots, cul­mi­nat­ing in a mas­sive hor­i­zon­tal slide of two plates inter­sect­ing south of new Zealand.

Shak­i­ly while still lis­ten­ing to the news­cast­er Sarah ran and called Bai­ley inside, stop­ping a moment to reflect and observe the dark for­ma­tions on the hori­zon, they took on new mean­ing now, she thought as an ice cold chill ran up her spine.

She lived inland about 200 kilo­me­tres from the sea, on a moun­tain mead­ow, which seemed at the moment to be a safe spot as the news­cast­er began to list the areas affect­ed by the mas­sive tsunami’s that the series of seis­mic events had cre­at­ed. Her face fell as the tele­vi­sion switched to footage of a mas­sive wall of churned up mud­dy, dirty brown water bar­rel­ing towards the Syd­ney Har­bour Bridge, swal­low­ing the Opera House, with just the peaks of the sails vis­i­ble as the water con­sumed every­thing in it’s path.

What was hap­pen­ing here, she hugged Bai­ley to her chest, He seemed to sense some­thing was wrong and he looked quizzi­cal­ly into her eyes, His own deep blue eyes star­ing inno­cent­ly and ques­tion­ing­ly at her. “Mum­my” he said and touched her face with his tiny warm hand. “What is mak­ing you sad”.

Sarah choked and could­n’t answer him, she kissed him, then held him tighter as the voice and images droned on and on through her sens­es. The news­cast­er was fair­ly yelling now, his face was beet red as he told of the cur­rent­ly hap­pen­ing destruc­tion of Cal­i­for­nia. Ten min­utes before­hand Mt St Helens had explod­ed, blow­ing a near­ly a kilo­me­tre off the top of her and spew­ing lava miles into the sky, the shocks had trig­gered the San Andreas fault to give way in a reac­tion of quakes through to south­ern Cal­i­for­nia, each mea­sur­ing over 9 on the Richter scale.

The news­cast­er stopped as a hand came into cam­era view and passed him yet anoth­er sheet of paper. He frowned and sighed as he turned to face the cam­era. It was almost with a dull monot­o­ne that he read from the lat­est item to hit the desk.

“Due to the mas­sive series of seis­mic events along the pacif­ic rim of fire, the earth has cre­at­ed such a wob­ble that it is now believed the moon has been thrown errat­i­cal­ly out of it’s nor­mal orbit around our plan­et. It seems that these events will con­tin­ue and it is as yet unknown when the events will sub­side. Emer­gency mar­shal law has been enact­ed all over the coun­try. Please stay tuned for instruc­tion bul­letin to fol­low.

Sud­den­ly the earth beneath Sarah’s feet became unsta­ble. She squealed loud­ly as she felt a rush of pow­er come towards her. She felt like she was on the edge of a high cliff, with a steam train rush­ing at her full steam, a roar rang in her ears as she ran to escape the con­fines of the house, Bai­ley still held tight­ly against her chest. Sarah fell out of the front veran­dah and laid there as the Earth ren­dered, shook and screamed beneath her. The air around her rushed and roared. Bai­ley start­ed scream­ing, his voice blend­ing in with the screams of the earth. The wrench­ing and tear­ing con­tin­ued as the sky dark­ened and a thick orange brown cloud filled the air. Inside the house the TV became silent, but the shak­ing con­tin­ued, get­ting stronger and stronger.

Sarah pulled Bai­ley clos­er and crawled away from the house as behind her the foun­da­tions of the 150 year old farm­house tore away and the build­ing col­lapsed with a screech of torn met­al. The ground tore apart in front of her and she stopped crawl­ing and she watched in seem­ing­ly slow motion as the gar­den she had ten­dered to so lov­ing­ly that morn­ing slid away down into a pit that had appeared, swal­low­ing it all in one long move­ment. Sarah screamed now as on the dis­tant moun­tain peaks, bright red rivers of molten lava appeared, burst­ing into the heav­ens like New Year’s fire­works against the dark­ened skies.

Bai­ley stared trans­fixed as steam vents siz­zled up in gey­sers and all around cracks appeared on the ground like a maze of spi­der webs over the area. Trees were uproot­ed and crashed back down with an almighty wrench­ing sound

The roar was loud­er now, the shak­ing seemed to be build­ing to a crescen­do, a sym­pho­ny of hor­ror and Sarah found she could not move or make a sound and then it hap­pened. The crescen­do peaked, there was a flash, a crack of sound, blind­ing colour and in that instant of ago­niz­ing pain Sarah called Bai­ley’s name. Then there was noth­ing as an explo­sion ripped through the solar sys­tem and the Earth was no more.

 

======================================
Well I wrote this for a con­test but do not wish to kill the sto­ry­line by cut­ting it in half to fit the 600 word cri­te­ria …so i thought I would post the sto­ry again for you all to read and hope­ful­ly enjoy. This is only the first draft. It still needs refine­ment. I like to write and then leave my piece for a bit and come back all fresh to do the sec­ond draft as I always look at it dif­fer­ent­ly then. Sera

I Did It My Way

Post Views: 25

 

Yes­ter­day morn­ing I woke up and it was pour­ing rain out­side. This dis­tressed me great­ly.

I now have three and a half turkeys in amongst my menagerie. Ter­rance and his two love­ly wives, Thel­ma and Louise and lit­tle baby turkey There­sa.

In my “pen” I have two shel­ters from the rain for the ani­mals but the prob­lem was my turkeys would­n’t fit under it. I need to have them pro­tect­ed from the ele­ments.

Now Glen is bet­ter, much bet­ter (blog com­ing) but he is still not in shape to be haul­ing roof sheet­ing around and bang­ing nails in so I decid­ed to cre­ate a spe­cial project and to build the Turkey shel­ter myself with some help from my junior appren­tices.

Only one prob­lem there, I have nev­er real­ly “built” any­thing in my life and the only time I have real­ly banged nails in is to put pic­ture hooks up on my walls to hang paint­ings on. Hmm big project indeed.

I wan­dered up to the “bits” shed to see what mate­ri­als were lying around that I could use on my mis­sion and found some nice planks and sup­port poles along with enough roof sheet­ing for the roof and side.

So with every­one look­ing on rather curi­ous­ly (espe­cial­ly the goats) I start­ed gath­er­ing my bits and pieces and drag­ging them down to stack out­side the work­shop.

I then spent half an hour arrang­ing the bits where I want­ed them and final­ly I was ready to begin. Glen passed me the ham­mer and nails out with a fun­ny look on his face as he peered at my assem­bled pieces. He decid­ed to watch as I start­ed to join my bits togeth­er. So with an audi­ence of one Ear­ly­dog, Five Chil­dren, One hus­band and four goats, I set about my task.

  • Caileen Greer

I asked Glen to hold a cou­ple of bits while i nailed it togeth­er and he still had this rather weird look on his face. I shrugged and kept work­ing. Final­ly I had two bits of frame com­plet­ed.

Glen still had the weird look on his face as he walked back inside to fin­ish what he had been doing and I then enlist­ed the chil­dren to help me car­ry my new­ly assem­bled frame down to the chick­en coop. We all marched down the yard with our “Bits” to the sur­prise of my curi­ous crit­ters who did­n’t know what the heck was going on.

The kids held my two bits up which they sooned real­ized were the sides of my new frame, as I ham­mered in the cross sup­ports. Halfway through doing this my son turned to me and said.. ahh­hh now i see what your doing mum, it looks great and you had to build it in here because we would­n’t have got it through the door oth­er­wise. Yes Some­times my son has my log­ic… some­times.….

To my cred­it I only ham­mered one of my fin­gers once dur­ing the whole exer­cise and it was­n’t long before I stood back and sur­veyed my work. At this point the chil­dren bought me down the roof sheet­ing from the “bits” shed which i sooned banged up in place on the top and back of the shel­ter as a wind break.

Then we moved the shel­ter over to uti­lize the tem­po­rary wind breaks I had already put in the pen for the ani­mals.

We all stood back and admired the new shel­ter. Ter­rance was first to inves­ti­gate his new shel­ter. He stood under it look­ing quite pleased. I had made the cross beams so that the chick­ens would be able to roost on them at night with plen­ty of room for the turkey fam­i­ly to sleep out of the ele­ments.

Of course as I was build­ing the pen it stopped rain­ing and the skies cleared. Prob­a­bly won’t get any­more rain for a month but when we do.. my turkeys will be ready for it.

I called out to Glen to come down and see the fin­ished prod­uct. I watched as he walked down the yard and looked at my new shel­ter. Sud­den­ly a big smile broke out on his face. “That looks great” he said.

I near­ly burst with hap­pi­ness. I was so proud of myself. I had pic­tured some­thing in my head and then built it out of scraps. The best thing was..it worked. It was stur­dy and strong and unlike­ly to fall apart so eas­i­ly.

Glen then went on and said “when I was up hold­ing it for you, i had no clue as to what the heck you were doing but now I see and you did great. They won’t get wet any­more”.

I hugged him and said oh well..it’s a big crooked.

He laughed at me and said, “its a chook pen, its not sup­posed to look per­fect, just be prac­ti­cal and that one is prac­ti­cal. You did a fan­tas­tic job”.

I stuck my puny chest out and beamed. I was so hap­py with myself and had a real sense of accom­plish­ment and achieve­ment. I did it myself. From my plans in my head to build­ing it myself.. and the best thing..it worked and will work for what it was designed for, for a long time.

I am still all proud like.. every­time I wan­der down to the pen and see a ban­tam chick­en on my new shel­ter roof, or a line up of hans perched on the cross beams… and the best reward i got was when i walked down to the pen after dark to check on the ani­mals to find Thel­ma sit­ting under the new shel­ter with baby There­sa peep­ing out from under­neath her wing where she was sleep­ing.

I did it myself.. my plans, my ideas and my own hands that bought it to fruition.… such a tiny thing.. to build a rag­gy old turkey shel­ter.. but a spe­cial event in my life indeed.….

I am going to tack­le the pig pen next and build them a pen, as my pigs.… well they are pigs… and because they are such pigs they steal all the chick­en’s rations so they need a pen of their own.

Even­tu­al­ly i want to build sep­a­rate pens for all my dif­fer­ent ani­mals.… Rome was­n’t built in a day indeed.. but I’ll get there.…..It’s not much..it pro­l­ly looks real­ly sim­ple and ugly

but I built it and it did­n’t cost a cent 🙂

So when have you stepped out of your com­fort zone and done and acheived some­thing total­ly dif­fer­ent and new?

Did you feel pride in your suc­cess?