what's wrong with you?

My most popular post is about the old TV programme

Charles in Charge

What is wrong with you people?

I came home

early today feeling a bit sicky again.

But happy day!

The burned out house next door has being pulled down.

Down to the ground.



Though that photo looks weird,

the sky and the house are too similar a colour I think.

Mags reckon the rats and mice holding hands as

they were fleeing the house towards ours.

She has active imagination.

I suggested she call the Pied Piper of Hamlin.

This was Oscar the dwarfs house that he and his brothers lived in

as they grew older,

They build it, it was their home, now it's rubble.

They died a while ago but many people my age remember

how Oscar used to sit at his gate,

which is my gate now,

and jump out and shout at the passing kids.

Sneaky dwarfs must scare the pants off kids.

Oscar was not popular.

The last residents moved on after the fire in December.
Some are still in town and they stopped by to see what had happened.

I feel sorry for them, they lost all their possessions and had no insurance.

But man am I happy they have moved on.

Noisy little beggars.



dawn

I've always wondered what it would be like to be named Dawn.

I don't ponder what it would be

like to be called Pansy, or Alex, or Missy, or Mae

just Dawn.

Not sure why.

Just as I'm not sure why I'm still in bed on a work day.

I feel ill but not enough to stay abed,

least in my book, or bed maybe.

Or I may just change my mind about that

(as my tummy does a flip).

I'm always amazed at how at work

people talk about feeling sicky.

And how the symptoms they talked about stay

floating though the office waiting to settle on another person.

Contagious places offices.

I think about all the surfaces we all touch

staplers, the mail bench, phones

(another but different tummy flip).

My work is too poor to pay for a cleaner

so we roster the cleaning

and I always, always volunteer to clean the bathroom.

Cause then I know it's clean.

Sometimes I just sneak a quick, mid-week door handle sanitizing too.

I, for one am grateful that we have mums and

good farm girls in our office cause

you can trust that things get well cleaned.

But those door handles, hmmmm.

The door to our loo has no lock or latch.

But there is the bathroom room to go through first

so it's not public or anything.

The lock got removed after Tinky got locked in there

and had to have tools passed through the window

to unscrew her way out.

Since then we've had no lock or latch

and it doesn't seem to bother anyone much.

Maybe cause none of us would be

espcially bothered if we have to pee in a field.

It's a farm thing.

This does not happen in our daily lives,

the feild peeing I mean.

The only bother is when I'm away from the office

but with my workmates,

I tend to forget to lock cubicles in public places.

Good thing there isn't any people,

other than the ones at work

in the Methven.

Maybe I just needed to lie in bed and watch the sunrise

and wonder what it would be like to be named Dawn.

I need that sometimes.

yum

Some thing is going on in my tummy.

I'm craving healthy foods

Quinoa patties

yum!

What I am having for dinner tomorrow is

courgettes with mozzarella and roma tomatoes grilled on top.

Like courgette pizza.

I eat a lot of courgettes.

Two years ago as part of my adoration

of the Pioneer Woman

Dae bought me Pioneer Woman's cookbook.

Oh the recipes in this book!

Wonderful looking and yet I made none.

The food was so American and heavy.

Entirely suitable for a farm environment.
Food that will fill your belly and put hair on your chest.

Is that the silliest saying or what?

atrophied eggs

In my kindness,

I gave a ride to Sister Nation

over to our Bishop's place

to pick up her car.

Sister Nation is a senior Missionette

who is based in Christchurch

working at National Achieves

photographing old records for family history.

She does this 5 days a week

 all day, unpaid.

Actually she pays for the priviledge.

She also does lots of wonderful, helpful things.

Lots of lovely kind acts of service

such as helping out before Church

at our Bishop's house

while the mother of the house, Mel

is recovering from a torn calf muscle

she collected whilst playing netball.

Bad, bad netball.

So on Sunday I took Sister Nation to get her car

and we chatted.

I'm pretty relaxed and it's very hard to offend me.

(bad manners offend me that's about it,

I am my mother's daughter).

Sister Nation did the usual things

lovely Church members do,

quiz me about my single status.

It's par for the course, it's fine.

I look very much younger than I am

so when I told her how old I am,

she blurted out...

"Your eggs have atrophied!"

That's awesome.

I loved that she said that.

That's fresh.

Cracked me up.

Still does.

My egg have atrophied.

I like it.