and another happy new year from us............. 

Happy New Year Y'all ... from sunny and hot Port Macquarie... 

fluoride & arthritis

It is a known fact that Skeletal Fluorosis masks as Arthritis

It is a known fact that Skeletal Fluorosis masks as Arthritis in many cases. Do doctors routinely check for Fluoride in the bones and joints of those who present with the symptoms of Arthritis?

It is a known fact that the body is only able to excrete 50% of fluorides taken in to the body from Fluoridated water, fluoridated toothpastes, infant formula, soft drinks, environmental pollution and the other many sources of Fluorides we are exposed to in daily lives.

It is also acknowledged that Skeletal Fluorosis can and does occur at levels as low as 1ppm which is the amount added to drinking water supplies.

The processes leading to the premature development of Arthritis, osteoporosis and bone fragility can be expected to occur in all people who drink fluoridated water, or who in any other way, increase their fluoride intake.

There are countless double blind scientific studies mainly done in the US, Japan, Europe and the UK, which support the above. Therefore before Arthritis is diagnosed, it should be incumbent upon the medical practitioner to test for fluoride uptake in the bones.

This might explain some of the alarming increase in “Arthritis” in Australia, along with the other factors indicated in the recent studies.

THINGS WE COULD LEARn from Dogd thanks Kitty Brown

THINGS WE COULD LEARN FROM DOGSNever pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.When loved ones come home, always run to meet them.Let others know when they have invaded your territory.Take naps and stretch before rising.Run, romp, and play daily.Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.Be loyal.Never pretend to be something you're not.If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and touch him or her gently.Thrive on attention and let people touch you.Avoid biting when a growl will do.On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shade tree.When you're happy, dance around and wiggle your entire body.No matter how often you're scolded, do not buy into the guilt thing and pout. Run right back and make friends.Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

THIS IS A PERFECT MOMENT

THIS IS A PERFECT MOMENT

(I Came across this some time ago… its good stuff…with an yankee twist.. we have to give it to the Yankees out there no matter what they do good or bad they do it with enthusiasm…)

THIS IS A PERFECT MOMENT
by Rob Brezsny


This is a perfect moment.

It's a perfect moment for many reasons, but especially because you and I are waking up from our sleepwalking, thumbsucking, dumbclucking collusion with the masters of illusion and destruction.

Thanks to them, from whom the painful blessings flow, we are waking up.

Their wars and tortures, their crimes against nature, extinctions of species and brand new diseases.

Their spying and lying in the name of the father, sterilizing seeds and trademarking water.

Molestations of god, celebrations of shame, stealing our dreams and changing our names.

Their ingenious commercials and bloodsucking hustles, their endless rehearsals for the end of the world.

Thanks to them, from whom the painful blessings flow, we are waking up.

Their painful blessings are cracking open more and more gashes in the shrunken and crippled mass hallucination that is mistakenly called "reality." And through the fractures, ripe eternity is flooding in; news of the soul's true home is pouring in; our allies from the other side of the veil are swarming in: inspiring us to become smarter and wilder and kinder and trickier.

We are waking up.

As heaven and earth come together, as the dreamtime and daytime merge, we register the shockingly exhilarating fact that we are in charge-- you and I are in charge--of creating a brand new world. Not in some distant time or faraway place, but right here and right now.                              

As we stand on this brink, as we dance on this verge, we can't let the ruling fools of the dying world sustain their curses. We have to rise up and fight their insane logic; defy, resist, and prevent their tragic magic; unleash our sacred rage and supercharge it.

But overthrowing the living dead is not enough. Protesting the well-dressed monsters is not enough. We can't afford to be consumed with our anger; can't be obsessed and possessed with their danger. Our sweet animal bodies need love and fertility. Our imaginations crave tastes of infinity.

In the New World that we are creating, we've got to be steeped in lusty compassion and ecstatic duty, ingenious love and insurrectionary beauty. We need radical curiosity and reverent pranks, voracious listening and ferocious thanks.

So I'm curious, my fellow creators. Since you and I are in charge of making a brand New World, where do we begin? What wild truths do we want at the heart of our transformations? What fresh codes and stories will be our oracles? What crafty questions and uplifting desires will be our inspirations?

Here's where I want to begin: with pronoia. Pronoia is the opposite of paranoia--the *antidote* for paranoia. Pronoia is the true theory that all of creation is conspiring to shower you with blessings. Pronoia is the guarantee that life always gives you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. Pronoia says that everything alive is working very hard to liberate you from ignorance and transform you into the gift of love you were born to be.

I am allergic to dogma. I thrive on questions, and don't trust any idea that tempts me to believe in it absolutely. There are very few perceptions or theories about which I am totally certain.

But I am absolutely certain that pronoia describes the way the world actually is. Pronoia is wetter than water, truer than the facts, and stronger than death. It smells like cedar smoke in early spring rain, and if you close your eyes right now, you can feel it shimmering like the aurora borealis in your soft, warm animal body.

Some Buddhists say the inherent nature of existence is suffering; they  long to escape into Nirvana. Many Catholics say the inherent nature of life is sinful; they long for the purified peace of heaven. But pronoia assures us that the inherent nature of life is to liberate us.

Being born on the earth is the highest honor and greatest privilege. To be alive as human beings gives us the chance to pull off exquisite and Herculean feats of magic that are not possible in nirvana or heaven or any other so-called paradise, higher dimension, or better place.

I'm not exaggerating or indulging in poetic metaphor when I say this.  Visualize it if you dare.

The sweet stuff that quenches all of our longing is not far away in some other time and place. It's right here and right now. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew, "Earth is crammed with heaven."
This Is a Perfect Moment" is an excerpt from:
PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia:
How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings*
by Rob Brezsny to be published in early 2005

"Please let me back inside you bloody humans...its 4,000 degrees hot out here...and if you show me any more photos of those lucky Corgis playing in the snow ... or looking wistfully out side I'll bloody well howl the house down... ifn I can get inside to do it. "

Not true...he's lying on the cool floor right at my feet right now in the airconditioning...

Poor Thorn...he's been limping a bit lately so we took him to the Vet yesterday...in about 1998 he had a lump (non cancerous) cut out of his shoulder...then again in 2001(?) but this time they had to take out muscle and he almost didn't come around after the operation. That vet said not to risk another big op because of his reaction...

The lump (tumor...we hope not malignant...or at least if it is slow growing) has grown and he's a bit sore. He'ss eleven now and as the vet says they tend to live about 15-18...so we are hoping it is slow... but to look at his big smiley face and know is harder than with a human being.

I love to go down and chuck his ball and watch him bolt after it and he loves it too, but know now just to give him small throws and not too many as it was making it sore...he doesn't know why...

He's such a wonderfully spitited dog, full of that total joy of life that a happy dog has... so all I hope for him ia that it grows slowly as it has been and that he lives out his life with not too much pain...

To operate would be to take out the whole shoulder, leg and underlying as it is just into the neck now... he would not survive this.

Quietly, as in here I can say I feel sad ... but its not as if anything is going to happen right now...its just the thought of the future...he's sitting here being so loyal and in the now... we could be a bit more like dogs in many ways and the world would be a better place... except when they go round sniffing each other...might not go down too well with some Hey! 

Prawns and salad for Christmas lunch... and two happy kids to share it with us...what more could we want in life? They've returned to the city now...one to Sydney and one to Melbourne and life is quieter.... but not sure I want a quiet life these days......

Late on Christmas evening I was thinking... (still could) and I thought the dangerous thought I should know better than to voice...its sort of like tempting the Gods a bit... I thought that at this time all of my Mum and Dad's kids and grandkids and great grand children are alive, reasonably well, and as far as I knew all were with someone they loved...

All of them had enough to eat..more than enough.

All of them have a roof over their heads.

And then I thought about my Mum and Dad... he was a labourer from the age of 12, and supported first his Mother and family, then all five of us and himself and Mum.

We spent every Christmas with each other till first he died and then Mum died.

We always had enough to eat...a roof over our heads and the peace and tolerance of parents who let us become what we could.

Dad died young, with no debts and no savings but a home we owned and Mum died the same.

I felt like their success as humble as it might seem to be in this world needed to be acknowledged by me...

they actually were happy and it showed.

They got it right by having no real choice I suppose but keeping it simple...but some in the same situation of apparent poverty and hard work would become hard and bitter and take it out on the kids...

They made the choice not to be like that.

A toast to my Mum and Dad... and all those like them.

I haven't stopped laughing since I got this beauty photo...

This is my eldest sister minding youngest sister's baby Isaac Thomas (only 6mths old!!!Breast fed is best as you can see..

Silly eldest sister kept complaining that he kept projectile vommiting on her...

You would too if some silly oldest sister kept squeezing you around the middle after a good binge...

Love the white stripe accross her chest 

Who's a happy little vegemite then?

My youngest sister sent this photo fo her two little angels...

Not sure what the next moment was like after this was taken but feel something most foul was being mulled over.

Who said purple is a 'spiritual colour?

Boxing Day 2

Boxing Day

Claim:   The name of Boxing Day comes from the need to rid the house of empty boxes the day after Christmas. Status:   False. Origins:   Few Americans have any inkling that there even is such a thing as Boxing Day, let alone what the reason might be for a holiday so named. However, before one concludes we're about to rag on Americentric attitudes towards other cultures, we should quickly point out that even though Boxing Day is celebrated in Australia, Britain, New Zealand, and Canada, not all that many in those countries have much of a notion as to why they get the 26th of December off. Boxing Day might well be a statutory holiday in some of those lands, but it's not a well understood one. Despite the lively images suggested by the name, it has nothing to do with pugilistic expositions between tanked-up family members who have dearly been looking forward to taking a round out of each other for the past year. Likewise, it does not gain its name from the overpowering need to rid the house of an excess of wrappings and mountains of now useless cardboard boxes the day after St. Nick arrived to turn a perfectly charming and orderly home into a maelstrom of discarded tissue paper. The name also has nothing to do with returning unwanted gifts to the stores they came from, hence its common association with hauling about boxes on the day after Christmas. The holiday's roots can be traced to Britain, where Boxing Day is also known as St. Stephen's Day. Reduced to the simplest essence, its origins are found in a long-ago practice of giving cash or durable goods to those of the lower classes. Gifts among equals were exchanged on or before Christmas Day, but beneficences to those less fortunate were bestowed the day after. And that's about as much as anyone can definitively say about its origin because once you step beyond that point, it's straight into the quagmire of debated claims and dueling folklorists. Which, by the way, is what we're about to muddy our boots with. Although there is general agreement that the holiday is of British origin and it has to do with giving presents to the less fortunate, there is still dispute as to how the name came about or precisely what unequal relationship is being recognized. At various times, the following "origins" have been loudly asserted as the correct one:

• Centuries ago, ordinary members of the merchant class gave boxes of food and fruit to tradespeople and servants the day after Christmas in an ancient form of Yuletide tip. These gifts were an expression of gratitude to those who worked for them, in much the same way that one now tips the paperboy an extra $20 at Christmastime or slips the building's superintendent a bottle of fine whisky. Those long-ago gifts were done up in boxes, hence the day coming to be known as "Boxing Day."


• Christmas celebrations in the old days entailed bringing everyone together from all over a large estate, thus creating one of the rare instances when everyone could be found in one place at one time. This gathering of his extended family, so to speak, presented the lord of the manor with a ready-made opportunity to easily hand out that year's stipend of necessities. Thus, the day after Christmas, after all the partying was over and it was almost time to go back to far-flung homesteads, serfs were presented with their annual allotment of practical goods. Who got what was determined by the status of the worker and his relative family size, with spun cloth, leather goods, durable food supplies, tools, and whatnot being handed out. Under this explanation, there was nothing voluntary about this transaction; the lord of the manor was obligated to supply these goods. The items were chucked into boxes, one box for each family, to make carrying away the results of this annual restocking easier; thus, the day came to be known as "Boxing Day."


• Many years ago, on the day after Christmas, servants in Britain carried boxes to their masters when they arrived for the day's work. It was a tradition that on this day all employers would put coins in the boxes as a special end-of-the-year gift. In a closely-related version of this explanation, apprentices and servants would on that day get to smash open small earthenware boxes left for them by their masters. These boxes would house small sums of money specifically left for them. This dual-versioned theory melds the two previous ones together into a new form — namely, the employer who was obligated to hand out something on Boxing Day, but this time to recipients who were not working the land for him and thus were not dependent on him for all they wore and ate. The "box" thus becomes something beyond ordinary compensation (in a way goods to landed serfs was not), yet it's also not a gift in that there's nothing voluntary about it. Under this theory, the boxes are an early form of Christmas bonus, something employees see as their entitlement.


• Boxes in churches for seasonal donations to the needy were opened on Christmas Day, and the contents distributed by the clergy the following day. The contents of this alms box originated with the ordinary folks in the parish who were under no direct obligation to provide anything at all and were certainly not tied to the recipients by a employer/employee relationship. In this case, the "box" in "Boxing Day" comes from that one gigantic lockbox the donations were left in. More elaborate versions of this origin involve boxes kept on sailing ships:

The title has been derived by some, from the box which was kept on board of every vessel that sailed upon a distant voyage, for the reception of donations to the priest — who, in return, was expected to offer masses for the safety of the expedition, to the particular saint having charge of the ship — and above all, of the box. The box was not to be opened until the return of the vessel; and we can conceive that, in cases where the mariners had had a perilous time of it, this casket would be found to enclose a tolerable offering. The mass was at that time called Christmass, and the boxes kept to pay for it were, of course, called Christmass-boxes. The poor, amongst those who had an interest in the fate of these ships, or of those who sailed in them, were in the habit of begging money from the rich, that they might contribute to the mass boxes; and hence the title which has descended to our day, giving to the anniversary of St Stephen's martyrdom the title of Christmas-boxing day, and, by corruption, its present popular one of Boxing Day.
Whichever theory one chooses to back, the one thread common to all is the theme of one-way provision to those not inhabiting the same social level. As mentioned previously, equals exchanged gifts on Christmas Day or before, but lessers (be they tradespeople, employees, servants, serfs, or the generic "poor") received their "boxes" on the day after. It is to be noted that the social superiors did not receive anything back from those they played Lord Bountiful to: a gift in return would have been seen as a presumptuous act of laying claim to equality, the very thing Boxing Day was an entrenched bastion against. Boxing Day was, after all, about preserving class lines. Barbara "lines of the times" Mikkelson Last updated:   25 December 2004 Sightings:     In the familiar Christmas carol, Good King Wenceslas' gifts of flesh (meat), wine, and firewood were made to a poor man whom he observed struggling through the snow "on the Feast of Stephen."
The URL for this page is http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/boxing.aspUrban Legends Reference Pages © 1995-2005by Barbara and David P. Mikkelson This material may not be reproduced without permission.
 

boxing day

There was some curiousity about Boxing Day and its meaning …then I realised I didn’t know the meaning myself but had enjoyed it all my life…so here it is…

Boxing Day - the name given to the December 26th public holiday, which was synonymous with the boxing and exchanging of gifts that would normally occur on this day by the slaves.

Boxing Day
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
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Boxing Day is a public holiday observed in many Commonwealth countries on 26 December. In many European countries it is also a holiday, called St. Stephen's Day or the Second Day of Christmas. Strictly defined as the first weekday after Christmas [1], popular usage [2] has more recently maintained that Boxing Day always falls on the 26th, and that its associated public holiday may fall on a different day.
There is much dispute over the true origins of Boxing Day, but one common story of the holiday's origins is that servants and tradesmen received Christmas gifts from their employers on the first weekday after Christmas, the day after the family celebrations. These were generally called their "Christmas boxes." Another story is that this is the day that priests broke open the collection boxes and distributed the money to the poor.
In Commonwealth countries (barring India), any fixed-date holidays falling on Saturday or Sunday are often observed on the next weekday, so if Boxing Day falls on a Saturday then Monday 28 December is a public holiday; while, if Christmas Day is a Saturday then both Monday 27 December and Tuesday 28 December will be public holidays. In the government holiday listings of the United Kingdom for 2004, the bank holiday in lieu of Boxing Day was observed on Monday 27 December, before the holiday in lieu of Christmas Day on Tuesday 28 December.
Boxing Day and the following day often features retail bargains in Canada.
[edit]
References

• ^  Merriam Webster and Encyclopedia Britannica describing Boxing day as "the first weekday after Christmas", where weekday may or may not include Saturday.


• ^  The Sydney Morning Herald, Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and The British Broadcasting Corporation each refer to Sunday, 26th December 2004 as "Boxing Day"

[edit]
External links

• Snopes article about origins of Boxing Day

King Donald of Craggy Island and his bewdiful Queen Middle Child would like you all to have a Happy Christmas and in fact it is we who grant you a whole day holiday so you can celebrate in your funny little homes, and exchange your funny little presents...you funny little people.

We will be receiving our just dues and tithes...you know "Render up to Caesar what belings to him" and all of that... and intend taking part in a right royal feast of spifflicated pheasant stuffed inside carked carcass of duck, inside a wee dead snowy white lamb, inside a humiliated and butchered hind all surronded by lashings of 4,000 year old casks of the best wine from our own fair kingdom here at Craggy island.

We will think of you all with your little mince pies and thin shaves of frozen turkey (if thats what it really is...) and hope you all enjoy your little rest, because its back to work in the smithy and fields on Boxing day or we'll have to give you a little boxxing around the ears to get you off your common working class behinds and back into your rightful places.

(PS Thats why they call it Boxing day...dolts)

WE know you will feel terribly honoured by us even bothering to remember to send you this, and should you send us EXTRA TAXES THIS YEAR WE WILL NO DOUBT DO IT AGAIN NEXT YULETIDE. 

Don the Rodeo rider!!!!!!!!!
I found this old clipping in amongst our photos... circa 1978...

No this is not when Don had his accident...this was just another "interesting" day in his life...

I hope you can see the smiles of those still holding the gate as Don was about to hit the ground after being thrown by this poddy calf...

No he had never ridden a cow, bull nor poddy calf before this day...but on a dare...a favourite ploy of all men to see someone undone...he got up on this calf and off he went.. in about 1 second...but he had a brand new pair of jeans and a pure white new sloppy Joe on...

Some time later he arrived home in someone elses Shorts and top... with no explanation...till this little piccie appeared in our local paper I was blissfully unaware although perturbed at the change of attire for the worse...

Don never wore shorts and these were a trifle short...a little ridiculuous with his little white leggies sticking out...so virginally...never seen the sun before...

Oh my God it sure has been an interesting if alarming life...

Och Ey the nooo... just thought you'd like to see my own wee castle... with its own wee ghosties and tartan rugs galore.... and no charge to get in over the draw bridge either...not that you'll ever get out again anyway...big money to be made on al those cars parked in our own wee Rob Roy Carpark...

It was all Don's idea...they don't call him the chief of Clan Mackay from castle craggy osland for nothing...


and no...they are not my hands... ye can niver be too sure when the wee ghostie inhabits my Aussie Body...and I think she's there right now ...silly old tart. 

Brehon Laws... Common sense

“The Story Of the Irish Race by Seumas Macmanus” I read this about 15 years ago  - he was one of the last Sanachies of Ireland…One of his chapters was about the Brehon Laws… I was reminded on one of those excellent laws – called “A Blush Fine” – see below – and went hunting to see if it was on the net… Somebody beat me to it and I found it in this blog… Pour youself a good drink…some Christmas cake and enjoy…Shame we haven’t got some of these laws these a days.

http://www.skepticfiles.org/moretext/brehon.htm

By: Norbert Sykes
Re: Brehon Laws

I just wanted to post something that I consider relevant to the movement
in (I believe it was) Tennessee to force the posting of the Decalogue/10
Commandments of the Old Testament in public places, private houses, or
whatever.  To me, if there was to be equal treatment under the law, then
we would have to post the laws of other cultures that contributed to
this country, religious or otherwise.  That way, everyone would know how
to act.  My contribution: the Brehon laws.  They are the laws of what
became the Celts, and some of them are estimated to date to over 3,000
years before the Celts were invaded by the English.  There are very many
of them, and I only have a short list, so here goes:

Every third year roads must be cleared of brambles, brush, weeds & water
to make ready for the great assembly, feast/fair [where every three
years the Brehons assembled to render judgement on matter of great
import rather than individual cases].

The creditor who holds your brooch, necklaces & rings as security for
your pledge must return them back to you to wear at the great assembly
[or be fined for your humiliation].

(freedom of) Speech is given to three: the Historian Bard for relating
tales, the Poet Bard for praise and satire, & the Brehon for rendering
judgement.

The time allotted to each Brehon for rendering judgement is long or
short depending on his dignity [or status].  In determining the length
of speech he is allowed 18 breathings per minute [early filibuster
control].

When a judge deviates from the truth a blotch will appear on his face.

For the best arable land the price is 24 cows.  The price for dry,
course land is 12 dry cows.

How many thing add to the price of a piece of land?  A wood, a mine,
site of a mill, a highway, a road, a great sea, river, mountain, river
falling into the sea, a cool pond for cattle.  Add three cows to the
price if it's near a chieftian's house or monastery.

For stripping the bark off an oak tree, enough to tan a pair of
women's shoes, the fine is one cow-hide.  The defendant must cover the
bruise with a mixture of wet clay, new milk, & cow dung.

If a man takes a woman off a horse, into the wood or on a boat and if
the family members are present they must object in writing within 24
hours or no fine will be paid.

If a woman makes an assignation with a man to come to her bed or
behind a bush the man is not guilt of rape even if she screams.  If
she has not agree to the meeting, however, he is guilty as soon as
she screams.

The groom shall pay a bride-price of cattle, land, horses, gold,
silver, to the Father of the bride.  Husband and wife retain
individual rights to property, goods and possessions each bring to
the marriage.

If a pregnant women craves a morsel of food and her husband
withholds it through stinginess, meanness or neglect he must pay
a fine.

The husband who, though listless, does not go to his wife in her bed
must pay a fine.

A fine of 6 cows for breaking a tribesman's two front teeth; 12
heifers for maiming a homeless man.  For pulling off the hairs of a
virgin Bishop one yearling for each 20 hairs.

The doctor shall build his house over a running stream.  His house
must not be slovenly or smeared with the tracks of snails.  It must
have four doors that open out so the patient may be seen from every
side.

No fools, drunks or female scolds are allowed in the doctor's house
when a patient is healing there.  No bad news to be brought or
talking across the bed.  No grunting pigs or barking dogs outside.

If the doctor heals your wound but breaks it anew because of
carelessness, neglect or lack of skill the doctor must return his
fee and pay damages if he has further wounded you.

Whoever comes to your house you must feed and care for him no
questions asked.

It is illegal to give someone food in which a dead weasel or mouse
has been found.

The Bard who over charges for his poem shall be stripped of half his
rank in society.

If your neighbor does not repay the debt he owes you, you may prevent
him form going about his daily business.  A withe-tie (for all to
see) goes around the blacksmith anvil, carpenter's axe or
tree-fellers hatchet.  He is on his honor to do no work until the
debt is settled or wrong righted.  If a Bard or physician is the
debtor immobilize his horse whip for both ride their circuits.  The
creditor may fast in front of the debtor's house to humiliate him
until the debt is paid.  [a withe is a flexible strip of willow]

If a rational adult bring a simpleton into an ale house for
amusement and the simpleton injures a patron the adult who brought
him must make compensation.

The fine for killing a bond servant or slave held as pledge for a
debt is 21 cows, for a free farmer of Erin 42 cows, for a noble 42
cows plus an additional amount depending on his status.  Fines are
doubled for malice aforethought.

Three days is the stay of your cattle in the pound for a quarrel in
the ale-house, injury of thy chief, overworking a valuable horse,
maiming their chained dog, disturbing a fair, great assembly,
striking or violating thy wife.  Five days for satirizing a man
after his death.

A layman may drink 6 pints of ale with his dinner but a monk only
three so he is sober when prayer time arrives.

Blush fine are payable for insults or embarrassments to all persons
of every rank except the ne'er-do-well, squanderer, selfish man who
thinks only of himself, the buffoon who distorts himself before
crowds, & the professional satirist.

The blacksmith must rouse all sleeping customers before he puts the
iron in the fire to guard against injury from sparks.  Those who
fall asleep again will receive no compensation.

If a chip of wood flies from carpenter's axe he is not held liable
unless he deliberately aimed the chip at the bystander.

The mill owner is exempt from liability for injury to persons caught
between the mill-stones.
. . . There, I think those should be posted on every Church around the
country myself.  Some of them make an awful lot of sense, IMHO. };)”

This is for all the middle aged men out there... You be kind to all females aged from 40 plus till when they tell you to stop okay...

Women have been known to act a little rashly if provoked by crusty old men (mainly) in the full heat of one of the thousands of hot flushes you guys never experience except by having a saucepan rightfully flung at your head.

If my husband says one more time to me when I am in the middle of one of these volcanic explosions "Why don't you put your hair up...(smiling syruply) you look so nice with your hair up...why don't you put your hair up?" ..."Why don't you put your hair up? I just don't know why you don't...(wait for it) ...put your hair up?" Followed by a quizical look...

As if in the middle of all of this heat and torrential downpour... I can suddenly produce a brush and rubber band and manage to get the wet mass into anything resembling respectability... well I bloody well would wouldn't I?

I don't need to be told 4,000 times in exactly the same voice with the "understanding look" to boot.

Leave us alone for god's sake ...its summer...its hot and getting constant good advice which I will always choose to ignore is not advised okay Don!

But now he's asleep (no I don't mean permanently) and he looks so young and sweet, and I have cooled down now...and No I am going to do it naturally without HRT. After all its only been happening now for 9 years... thats chicken shit to me. I'm made tough, and hope Don is too

Light.


Sometimes,
all I wait for is the change of light.
Softly, timelessly - light becomes the morning.
The blush of re birth on a glittering hillside,
The morning is joy and the wild birds rejoice.
The greys timeless procession into blue; into pink
And then the flash, the gold glory of the day.

Sometimes
I am held still, by the liquid lights of summer-
Brash and bold; slowly seducing me with its richness.
The heat itself is woven in to the light,
I smell the spell it weaves -
Till even the smell becomes woven
Shimmering in make believe pools of light.

Sometimes
when I am hurrying home in my car,
to my house, my family, to things that need doing...
I send my thoughts behind me to this other reality
hoping to remember the light show
Going on... sending a silent salute
to the gleaming miracle of light...

Sometimes
All I need is the change of light.

Middle Child

Medical Terms

(Please forward to others who may benefit)

I thought you might enjoy this hilarious look at new words to
describe our over-medicated society:

Medheads - People who take multiple prescription drugs on a daily
basis and, as a result, suffer from brain fog. They can be young (ADHD,
depression drugs), middle-aged (cholesterol drugs, diabetes drugs) or
elderly (Alzheimer's drugs, osteoporosis drugs, etc.). These are the
people you see on the road who drive for ten miles with their turn
signal on, who swing wide into the left lane before making a right
turn, and who take four full seconds to accelerate after the traffic
light turns green. Medheads. Not to be confused with Deadheads (who
are actually a lot more fun to talk to).

Black boxer - A consumer who takes drugs that are so dangerous, the
FDA requires the drug packaging to carry a large black box warning
about severe harm or death. Black boxers usually don't care about the
long-term harm to their health, they just want the pain (or other
symptom) to go away so they can get back to watching prime-time
television in relative comfort.

Drug madvertising - The practice of allowing drug companies to
advertise patented chemicals directly to consumers in order to create
demand for drugs that everyday people frankly do not understand. Every
country in the world bans the practice of Direct-To-Consumer (DTC)
drug advertising... except the United States, of course, where
consumers are subjected to a never-ending barrage of ridiculous drug
ads showing happy, healthy people popping purple pills they would
never consume in real life. Of all industrialized nations in the world,
only the U.S. (with the ever-caring support of the Food and Drug
Administration) endorses drug madvertising.

News repeater - Not be confused with a news reporter, a news repeater
is a person who gets paid to pretend to be a member of the press, but
who actually just regurgitates whatever health / medical news the drug
companies and the FDA are peddling this week. New miracle breast
cancer drug discovered! Vitamin E may kill you! Sunlight is deadly!
Don't trust Canadians (or their pharmacists)! Deadly, dangerous
Chinese herbs may have possibly killed someone somewhere! Drug
companies need billions of dollars in drug profits to find the cure
for cancer! Evidence-based medicine is credible! These are the type of
headlines constructed by news repeaters.

Fictitious disease - A fabricated disease invented for the sole
purpose of creating a new market for patented drugs. ADHD is the prime
example of a fictitious disease, and the psychiatric community is now
well-practiced at labeling human behaviors "brain chemistry imbalances
that need to be treated with chemicals." Other fictitious diseases
include high cholesterol (it's not a disease, it's just a symptom),
hypertension (also not a disease, but rather a symptom), and even
osteoporosis (not a disease, just fragile bones caused by dietary and
lifestyle habits that can be easily reversed).

Diseasification - The process of spreading the fictitious diseases
through the population. This is how drug companies get rich: by
manufacturing disease and convincing people they now suddenly suffer
from it. See "Spontaneous Mass Diagnosis," below. Diseasification is
greatly aided by drug madvertising (mass propaganda) designed to
change the way people think about health and disease. Fear of public
speaking used to merely be a fear. Now it's a disease, and there's a
drug to treat it. Menopause used to be menopause. Now it's a disease,
too. The former head of Merck, a man named Gadsden, once said he
wished to expand the drug market to healthy people, so he wouldn't be
limited to selling drugs only to sick people. He wanted people to take
drugs like they chew gum. What a visionary! (See Selling Sickness to
learn more.)

Spontaneous mass diagnosis - The process of redefining health in
order to instantly label as many consumers as possible with a
fictitious disease. Spontaneous mass diagnosis works by moving the
goalposts that define a disease state. A "normal" level of LDL
cholesterol used to be 130. Last year, a panel of corrupt medical
decision makers with under-the-table financial ties to drug companies
spontaneously decided that "normal" LDL cholesterol should be 100.
Overnight, ten million more Americans were suddenly afflicted with the
fictitious disease of high cholesterol. And the treatment for this
spontaneous disease? Statin drugs, of course. The aim of Big Pharma is
to make sure everyone fits the definition of at least one disease,
because the prescription drug lords know that once a person gets on
one prescription drug, the inevitable side effects will create other
health problems that need to be treated with even more drugs. Instant
recurring revenue! Now that's a clever marketing plan!

The Wall - Short for Walgreens, one of the top street corner
pharmacies in America. The Wall is where medheads and black boxers go
to buy dangerous drugs to treat their fictitious diseases because
they've been subjected to spontaneous mass diagnosis.

Permission is granted to repost, reprint or reproduce this satire
article in its entirety as long as no changes are made and credit is
given to the Health Ranger + a link to http://www.NewsTarget.
com/012580.html

My youngest sister trying to feed her darlings to the crocodile...who needs em anyway? Yeass they have been known to grow this big...this is one that died and was stuffed or something...kinda makes you think twice about going swimming in the tropics north of cairns where the water is so blue and the sun so hot.

"Kookaburra sits in the old Gum Tree...merry merry king of the bush is he..." we learnt this song as kids, but the sound of ten of these outside your window at 5am sounds more like the cawing of ravens (crows to us)...I'm glad it is they who eat most of the red bellied balck snakes... have a feeling they are eyeing us off of late... 

Its hot here now...and there are some bloody big snakes around here in summer... King Browns...(Death in 30mins)...Red Bellied Black Snakes (kill dogs in 30mins)... Death Adders (don't bother ringing the ambulance...just enjoy the trip) but we're still alarmed at what snake it was made these tracks...maybe a four wheel drive snake stuffing up a day at the beach for us all... King of the road I don't think...King Dick of the beach is more like it... Kids have to dodge these monsters ifn they know whats good for them...they learn this while still young uns.

They breed us tough down under. 

This is our little dam...with lillies, ducks and the odd stranded cow (neighbour's cow) ...Not as glam as your Scot's Lochs, nor as picture book as those amazing snow scenes from Idaho...and like now in summer the grass grows so bloody long you can hardly see it...we're getting it slashed before Christmas so the kids can find us...


but its our dam, while we're here and sbnakes and all we love our little dam...tho no one would ever want to swim in it 

Big Storm coming...!!! Hope we don't get all our equipment fried again...a storm a day really keeps you on your toes...poor bloody dog is a shiverin' & a shakin'...Kaaaaboom...I am off now...

No worries ok... this sister loved this "portrait" and has it immortalised on her fridge door where all great art belongs... she's my much older sister can't you tell! Compared to me...er well compared to anybody she'd pretty darn thin these days...and much prefers to get her calories from Bertolli's sugar free plonk 4,000 litres for $5.... its a bargain.... were amused when she tried to get a whole prawn on a "crouton" of bread and commented about the fat levels...I say bring on the bloody butter...eat and enjoy... for tomorrow no matter what, we all die...but natural butter - and no McDonald's shit...

Veronica (sister) actually has a digitial camera and is often taking photos of the food I cook...some immortalise it some poor buggers have to actually cook it...oh dearie me...

We were always scared of her as kids... she taught us "school" with a real cane and played dentists with forks and knives as implements...


She is no longer "Attila of the Huns" but these days "Atilla of the Hens"

This photo of my parents on their honeymoon in 1949 represents a triumph against all the odds...some of which I just discovered yesterday...36 years after dad died and 13 years after mum also died.

Maybe just of interest to me, and I haven't had a chance to let all my sisters know the full extent of what they had to go through to be together...and yes it was a love story...with a happy ending because what they left to all five of us and grandchildren is the real treasure...something mean bastards never leave behind them.

I had a phone call out of the blue yesterday from a first cousin of my mothers'uncle Peter ...he is now about 80...and anything but frail. We laughed ourselves silly over some of the family happenings and wierdnesses...then he told me how mum and dad were treated when they decided to try and become a couple.

Mum's mother died when mum was 4 and she lived way out in the bush with her father and uncle... Irish Catholics. Dad was an Irish Protestant and a labourer to boot.

Uncle Peter set things to rights when he explained that during the four years of them going out... which we had always imagined Mum and Dad sitting on the verandah and getting to know each other...Grandfather forbade mum to allow Dad to come onto the property. So for three years mum sat with dad at the front gate near a tree...(in full sight of grandfather.. all the time).

My mother and father came through this demeaning (he was 28 and she 20 thereabouts) treatment and I never heard one word of criticism from either of them...I would have bloody well criticised thats for sure. We were always aware that Mum and Dad were treated as if they were still children, stupid and feckless I guess...but the love they had for each other still exists in all of us. Mum dissolved a bit when dad was killed... seemed to age overnight ... and one day I will write their story because it deserves to be written because there was a nobility in both of them as if they were not really part of this world although they received the worst that this world dished up at times.

My uncle told me a lot more too much to go into here and only of interest to me and mine, but I have to say that even now, at my age and with all I have seen and done and had done to me I am still chilled by the level of emotional cruelty inflicted by people who say they love us...such as with mum's father...a man who all my life I have loved and only ever received kind treatment form. Not so my mother and not so my father and I hope somewhere that the scales are being balanced...I have to hope that at least.

But mum and dad triumphed...our family has gone in all directions, vigourous and clean and full of life. The kids from the next generation carry the spark and humor and the memory and thats what mum and dad achieved...in spite of spiteful people.

I was saddened that they had to be treated so badly...but perhaps it was the memory of that treatment which made them able to be so lighthearted and young in my memory. The wonderful thing is that I have a box of about 150 letters dad wrote to mum during all of this time...and in one of the last ones before they married he said to her "Its lucky that that tree can't talk." now after all these years I realise the significance of those words. The tree was where they spent 3 years of "courting". 

We are a funny pair no doubt about that... pass us in the street you'd think... "what a funny pair"... ???

but to us ... we are normal... well I think I am...not too sure about that strange man beside me..."

And then... and then... she threatened my poor bloody teetotaler husband with the last remaining bottle... he was just so scared after seeing the devastation from the kitchen... I mean ...I mean whats a poor bloody cripple supposed to do...thats what he said to me..."Whats a poor bloody cripple supposed to do?

"Cop it sweet" I told him and "be happy its only champagne and not acid" knowing my eldest sister...it could have been hydrochloric acid ... strawberry flavoured of course! 

Yeah...it is blurred. What would you do with a camera if your so called responsible sister "the expert" of opening champagne on Melbourne Cup Day (Nov) splashed it all over the kitchen; the cupboard doors; the stove; fridge; the roof...yes the roof and just everywhere and then thought that the damage to her cheap and nasty skirt was more important....?

Surely she was one of the milkman's by blows

I thought this was worth a post - wish I had a thought of it first

1 Why is it that when I need people to do things promptly, there are endless reasons why those things will be delayed or not get done at all?
2 Why is it that those same people require me, by return, to do things both promptly and at the eleventh hour because they have delayed things in the first place and if I don't do them promptly it will be all my fault and cost me lots in money and peace of mind?
3 Why is it that I am asked to be calm by someone who is not calm?
4 Why is it that I am asked to be reasonable by someone who is being unreasonable?
5 Why is it that I am accused of accusing people of things when all I have done is ask a question? 6 Why is it that truth is uncomfortable?
7 Why is it that people avoid issues and thus make them worse?
8 Why is that when I face issues, I am accused of forcing them?
9 Why is it that inertia and prevarication have come to be regarded as virtues?
10 Why is that people wish to pass to me all their anxieties?
11 Why do people ask advice, ignore it, blame me for giving it, then accuse me of a) interfering by giving advice and b) ask me to help sort out the subequent shambles and c) accuse me of standing by, uncaring, while they made a mess of their lives and d) unreasonableness by bringing these things to their attention?
12 Why do those same people offer me advice when I have never asked for it, and having proffered it, why do they sulk when I ignore it and things turn out ok anyway?
13 Why is that everybody is too busy to do things but I, they say, am not?

Quite a bit of a rant yesterday, but it was good to vent that bit. We are not able to say much to anyone locally about what happened as this person seems to be very aware of her rights to sue on just about everything. We learned from that experience as you do, but we were gobsmacked that the system protected her rights and covered all her costs, thinking we were just another greedy rich employer and with no allowance for what was really happening. They seemed to have set in place a set of rules and as each one was ticked off she advanced down the line of payments and she figured out multiple ways to cover all her costs plus plus.

Oh dearie me, I'll have to take my own "advice" and try to let go of this awful character... it seems that every time in the past four or five years I start to think strongly about her as I have been, I end up bumping into her and three times after this has happened within a day or two there is yet another demand for a claim by another solicitor against us. One day it actually happened on the same day after a gap of about a year. Its wierd as if there is a connection there... so I am not thinking about her...I am not thinking about her...I am not thinking about her one hundred times.

Think nice thoughts... like how good it is to be minding our daughter's smiling dog... ( and how good it would be to sic him onto her and watch her run...) oh noo I didn't think that.

Alison and her best friend the lovely and very handsome Thorn...

This doggie laid out side her bedroom day in and day out when she was so ill..slept up against the wall and never left her side no matter what... not for a week, not for a month but for the couple of years it took for her to begin the return journey...all he asked for was her hand on his head...her approval...and her total love...
put us humans to shame.

Don and our Ali, kindred spirits. So much understanding there beyond years. 

I remember this day. We all went on a picnic near the beach and came back home to finish it because we nearly got blown offa the headland...

about five years ago now...one of those days which stay in your memory and make your life warm....

Don was well...Melissa (the "blondie" was happy, Alison was well and happy...

She has suffered so much since then and is slowly regaining some level of health...but to see her here as she was before becoming ill is heartbreaking...and also to know how strong she has become because of it all is also amazing...

There are no flies on her...she is a tough little nut... but I wish she didn't have to have been so tough and suffer so much heartbreak in the interim., 

A lovely day about 5 years ago...found these photos in a box and scanned them in...pleased I did... Melissa o (the blonde???) and Alison came home for about a week and we had the best time...it wasn't Christmas but felt like it... maybe I am easily impressed 

Father Ted is our inspiration... and we aim to make sure the traditions of "Craggy island" are upheld even here...down under...where its summer and christmas all at the ssame time. 

Nooo I haven't told Don (husband) that I am posting this...but our daughter sent him this little goldfish with puckered up lips...and we were amazed she got the likeness so well...Lord of the Isles...no way, but up in the wilds of Scotland they have bred those Mackays wild as, and no doubt fish was a big part of the menu which only just staved off starvation...

For Don to eat fish would be like eating a relative...what would that be...not incest... not cannibilism?

Those bloody Scots Australians are really a scary lot.