Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Sunday Selections # 316

Welcome back to Sunday Selections.

Begun way back in the mist of time by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock and now continued by me, with a drastic relaxation of rules.


Originally meant for showcasing old photos lost on your files, never seeing the light of day, the meme has morphed into photos of your choice, new or old, good or not-so-good, anything you please, but nothing rude please.


If you are participating, please leave me a comment so I can buzz along and have a look.
Elephant's Child usually participates, and her pictures are always worth seeing, but EC is currently taking a break.


Today's selection wasn't planned, I had nothing prepared and haven't been taking the camera out much.
So here's what I've been doing recently:

I emptied my pantry onto every available surface, the blue buckets you see still in there are full of moisture absorbing crystals, without them every cupboard in the house has a very musty damp smell and things like clothes could possibly grow mould. I'm allergic to mould, so I've had these buckets since I moved in and buy new crystals every three months.
What you see here in this camera angle is almost all of my kitchen.

this is the rest of the kitchen, opposite the sink is the fridge and that's all there is.
Anyway, I decided it was time for a clean out. There were things in there that I just don't cook with anymore, I've been kidding myself that maybe one day I'll cook and bake again like I used to. After five years here, I know that's not happening, so a ton of stuff ended up

here. Sago, coconut both flaked and dessicated, flavouring essences and colourings, spices, all gone. I even found a packet of Devil's Food chocolate cake mix from 2014 that I'd planned to use as a base for a Black Forest Cake. That's gone too.  There's so much space in there now. The baking pans and cookie sheets got packed away long ago. Some will be used again at Christmas, then they'll get packed away again, just like Christmas decorations.

Away from home, I've been helping with cutting back shrubbery that is wildly overgrown. 

this beautiful white buddleia is the only remaining one of three original plantings, the white, a purple and a pink.
It hasn't been cut back or even trimmed in 15 years. It's huge!

Here it is fighting for space with the Murraya. When first planted, the tag on the Murraya suggested it would grow to maybe one and a half metres. Now, it's as tall as the house ans completely covered in

highly scented, hayfever inducing small white flowers several times a year. Planting this was a big mistake. Not only do the house occupants suffer, but so do the neighbours and of course, me. This has to go.

I started with the buddleia,

with all the deadwood hiding behind the facade of flowers.

I soon discovered the gnarly old base,

and the beginning of the path that runs along the front edge of the original, quite small, garden bed.Still a lot of cutting back to be done here and I've filled the wheelie green waste bin twice already.

Further along are the rocks that marked the end of the bed, taking over where the path finished. Years ago, this is where the lawn grew up to, now it has been covered in deadfall and shade so long the grass has long since died. Hopefully I can get it growing there again.

this is the base of the Murraya. Once I have enough space from cutting back the Buddleia, I'll start reducing this by sawing off the branches that hang over towards the lawn. I'll leave them where they fall to dry and then they'll get sawn up and put in the bin. The council takes all green waste and makes mulch from it, so at least it will still be of some use. I hope to eventually reduce it to the point where I can cut the main trunk and (close your ears plant lovers) poison it. Harsh, but necessary, the elderly neighbour doesn't need to keep suffering from something I planted, not knowing the eventual effects.

Now what could this be? A largish lump under the quilt, which moves when I touch it.

It's Angel of course, and when I walked around the other side of the bed to photograph his pretty face,

he woke up and caught me.
Sometime last week, I told Delores I would take photos of the dry foods Angel eats to control the hairballs.

Here are the foods: the blue edged packet contains salmon, whitefish and olive oil  and is for skin and coat conditioning; the black edged packet contains chicken and turkey with cranberry and is for improved digestion and hairball control.

As well as the dry food, Angel eats two cans daily of wet food, an 85gram can, morning and night, containing tuna and barramundi. He used to eat other flavours, but now he's down to this one only.

Angel also gets these "treats". The red packet has Kangaroo Snackers, the blue has Liver Bites. He LOVES them and gets just a few mixed into his dry food after he finishes the wet fish food.  He has learned to wait for them, sitting in the kitchen doorway after eating the wet food and watching me until I get up and reach for the treats.
 With the food and the treats, I mix both varieties in plastic containers, to be sure he gets a bit of everything.

You'll notice the packets are Grain Free, there is no cereal filling in any of Angel's food; even the wet food, labelled "responsibly fished" contains only tuna, barramundi and a little chicken mine along with gelling agents (so it isn't watery),  vitamins, minerals, and Taurine which is so important for cats although I don't remember why. Eyesight? Nerves?
Anyway, Angel is thriving on this diet, with a good appetite and a lush and silky coat, when it isn't all matted with prickly grass seed heads. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

Friday, February 24, 2017

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write, a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by and can be found here.

NEXT month, the words will be supplied by me and can be found right here at Drifting Through Life.

This week's words are:


1. gaseous
2. green
3. ghostly
4. grammar
5. glob
6. ghoul

and/or:

1. dastardly
2. dunce
3. dragon
4. destiny
5. doberman
6. dinner

Here is my story:

The small,  gaseous, green cloud emanating from the glob of whatever-that-was, reminded Tom of the ghostly apparitions in his favourite childhood movie, "Ghostbusters". Unfortunately, the cause of this chemical reaction was lost to him. Tom had never paid much attention in chemistry class. Or any other class for that matter. Learning just enough to pass to the next grade was fine with him. Tom's main ambition was to leave school as soon as he was legally able and bum his way around the country as a seasonal worker. Cities and offices were not for him, no sir!
He wouldn't be needing math, or grammar, certainly not chemistry. When he got the lowest test score and Mr Franklin pronounced him the class dunce, he hadn't minded one bit. 

Bumming around the country had been a good life, Tom's needs were few and most of his pay, little as it was, had built up nicely in his bank account. But as the years passed, the fruit picking and other odd jobs had dried up, with more and more small farms being bought out by big machinery conglomerates.  

Tom had one day found himself on the outskirts of a small city, working at a breeding kennel, mucking out the stalls, washing up the food and water bowls, exercising the animals as they awaited the birth of their puppies.

The owner, a scrawny woman of indeterminate age, reminded Tom of a dragon, with her fierce manner, spiky hair and fingernails like claws.  But Olivia loved her Dobermans and was very particular about the welfare of her 'girls' as she called them.  Tom learned their dinner time and what they ate, as well as the amount, was of the utmost importance.  No cheap-and-nasty backyard breeding was going on here. These were pedigreed bitches who would produce A-grade puppies, only one litter every two years and no more than three litters before being given a break from mothering. The destiny of most of the pups was to be trained as guard dogs for security firms.

Tom calmly and quietly removed Princess, the current inhabitant of the birthing room, then went to fetch Olivia. After two years he'd grown quite fond of her and the animals, which he cared for just as much as she did. One look at his face when he appeared at the back door, and Olivia was heading towards the shed in an instant. "Poison!" she spat, "that dastardly Lewis I bet", she said more quietly. "He's been wanting a puppy for years and I keep refusing him, because I know he wants one to train as a fighter. Dog fighting is illegal, just like those awful cock-fights that go on down below the border. He said last time he'd be getting back at me, and this poisonous gas would have killed Princess before her pups were delivered. Where is she now?"
"I've put her in the empty kennel row, lots of straw and a bowl of water. How would Lewis have got in here anyway?"
"That ghoul probably hitched a ride with the straw delivery van, they have a new driver who wouldn't know Lewis from Adam" said Olivia. She covered the smelly glob with a spadeful of dirt then a bucket, thankful the gas hadn't spread very far. "Let's get the other girls out of the other room, make sure there isn't anything else in their stalls, we'll take them up to the house."
A whimper from the small shed had them both turning that way. "Sounds like Princess has begun," said Olivia. "This is her second litter, she'll be fine for a while. You start moving Queenie and Sheba while I go and ring Dr Wentworth, he'll come out and check on her as she delivers."
"What about the other girls?" asked Tom. "You want me to check the field kennels after I move Queenie and Sheba?"
"Good idea," said Olivia. "I don't think Lewis would have gone all the way down there, but check anyway."
 
 

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday # 267

Welcome back to Whimsical Wednesday!

The day for your googled giggle that gets you over the hump that is Wednesday and sliding down into the weekend.

First one home wins 😁

Monday, February 20, 2017

Musical Monday # 140

I was introduced to Musical Monday by Delores who copied the meme from another site.

I think it’s a fun way to show off some of the music we like and brighten up our Mondays at the same time. 


I’ll be finding my clips on you tube, so will simply credit that site since there are often so many versions of everything and I wouldn’t want to accidentally credit the wrong artist.


Today’s clip is: Eruption


One Way Ticket

and the lyrics:

 

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Sunday Selections # 315

Welcome back to Sunday Selections.

Begun way back in the mist of time by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock and now continued by me, with a drastic relaxation of rules.


Originally meant for showcasing old photos lost on your files, never seeing the light of day, the meme has morphed into photos of your choice, new or old, good or not-so-good, anything you please, but nothing rude please.


If you are participating, please leave me a comment so I can buzz along and have a look.
Elephant's Child always participates, and her pictures are always worth seeing, but EC is currently taking a break.


Wandering around:

 another block that once housed a home is being prepared for a new one, this is the third one between my driveway and the end of the street, a short two minute walk.

waiting for a bus, I snapped a few shots

of a brilliant white bank of cloud

as it disappeared over the hills.

someone has planted these two agaves(?) where the daisies used to be.

this one on the right, which has been kicked over and pulled out, twice, seems to be surviving quite well in spite of such rough treatment.

two baby buddleias planted where the Fejoia overhang used to be.

but what's this? The Fejoia stump is sprouting new growth! There's going to be a battle for space and sunshine a year from now.

I spotted this well established white geranium hiding behind the oleander.

I have my suspicions. It may be the one I had three years ago which mysteriously disappeared.
 Back then, so many things I planted on "her" side of the path just vanished and later showed up much closer to "her" flat. Well at least they're surviving.

Down the street a bit, next to the empty block, new neighbours in this house are caring for the once neglected garden and have the nectarine trees netted. The rainbow Lorikeets won't be happy.

Here you see all five of 'my' plum trees, they've grown quite a bit since I moved in, the top of the trees now reaches the roof of the upstairs flat. The plum crop was looking really good last December, the birds had left them alone and I was looking forward to plums. I didn't get a single one. Someone cleaned the trees completely while I was out one day. 😞

Finally, here is a neighbour's two metre spread of the same plant I featured last week. This is where I got the cutting from, with her permission of course. She also gave me the echeverias that are slowly taking over the spot I planted them.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, February 17, 2017

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write, a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Delores and can be found here.

This week's words are:


1. grave
2. plaid
3. umbrella
4. sizzle
5. yesterday
6. extreme

and/or

1. blended
2. paste
3. jarring
4. waltz
5. rosemary
6. splendid

Here is my story:

part three of the Remy tale: a development ***

Standing by a rosemary bush with one of those fancy blended coffees in his hand, Officer Steve Brendan idly watched the roller-skating troupe practising a waltz. Wearing old-time ballroom dancing outfits, the spectacle was rather splendid, apart from one jarring note. 


A large, shambling man, dressed in tatty cast-offs and holding a plaid umbrella, made his way right through the dancers, coming towards Steve. Beginning to rummage through a garbage bin, he muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear.


"G'Day Steve," he said. "How's things?"
"Not bad Pete, " said Steve, holding up his cup to hide his mouth. "What are you doing here? Last I heard you were undercover in the East End alleys"


"Still am," replied Pete. "Got a word about that jewellery heist, the one where some bugger said Remy was hiding them. Yesterday I put the word around I was interested, said I might know a good fence, then some small guy I never saw before speaks up and says it's a set-up. The jewels are paste, not real."


Steve had to gain control of himself at that last statement, he'd nearly turned toward Pete. Wouldn't do for anyone watching to find out Pete wasn't the bum they thought he was. 


Steve took a large mouthful of his coffee and pretended to choke so as to be nearer the bin and Pete. Under the cover of a handkerchief wiping off his chin Steve asked, "What do you mean fake? "


"I heard it's a set-up, look into the husband," said Pete without hardly moving his lips at all. He wandered away and Steve returned his attention to the dancers.


"Could be an insurance scam," he thought, then suddenly, "Uh-oh, if Bernie's back in town, things could get extremely hot pretty quick. Things could sizzle"


Bernie had recently been released from prison after eight years for faking insurance claims and embezzling from his company. If he was up to his old tricks so soon, he'd be back in prison until they carried him out to his grave.


Officer Steve Brendan tossed his now empty cup into the bin and slowly walked away, still glancing at the dancers now and again as his mind churned with possible action plans.








***I'm not entirely happy with this, I had the story written and by accidentally clicking  a wrong button I lost the whole thing and have had to rewrite from memory; at the same time, the phone rang, it was the vet telling me Angel was ready to come home. 

I have most of the story the way I remembered it but the last four paragraphs aren't the same. I just can't remember exactly what I had there. From now on I'll write everything on paper first.



Thursday, February 16, 2017

Angel is home again

If I could get a photo of him standing up, you'd see how much he looks like a miniature black lion, but already he's running around too fast. The grogginess of anaesthetic seems to have worn off already.

Just home and very groggy, trying to walk but his legs kept folding under him

he made it to the food bowl. The vet said be careful of him jumping around too soon, well, Angel had different ideas, leapt out of the carrier as soon as I unlatched it. I didn't even open the door, he nudged it with his nose and was out before I could catch him.

napping on the bed.

here you can see the ridges left by the shaver. The vet said she didn't see any fleas at all, so that's a good thing.

he's back at the food bowl, jumped off the bed by himself. I didn't know he was awake until I heard him thud to the floor.

some of his stripe pattern is still visible.

here he is already wanting to go outside, meowing quite insistently too, but the vet said not too soon so I'm ignoring the pleas for freedom.

The grogginess wore off faster than I expected and he's running from front door to back door hoping I'll open either one. No way. He can use the litter tray today.