My Gorgeous Godmother, Auntie Glen

 My mum's best friend had her as a bridesmaid when she and Don married in April 196? - 3 I suppose?  It was before my parents got married, because Glen was to be her matron of honour but was also 8 months pregnant with her son at the time.

They did pharmacy together, and we heard of Mum's high-flying friends from her heyday moving whole states away, living a very different lifestyle, he an industrial chemist and eventually executive of a multi-national nation-building conglomerate, she a very skilled executive's wife, poster-book PTA mother who, like Mum, kept her hand in the trade doing a day or two here and there behind the high counter at the chemist shops.

And she was MY godmother.

I obviously met her when very young - the November prior my April birth my parents and sister went to see the Melbourne Cup (Rain Lover won - of course my Dad had money on him, with a name like that!) and also the Glen and her family - husband Don and son and daughter - so she probably knew of my being before I was, indeed, on this earth.

I cannot remember in which order it went - we to visit them in Sydney or they to come and visit us.

When they came to visit us (which may have been before) my older godbrother and I put together a project - we built a frog farm where they lived in complete masonite apartment luxury with a flyscreen net roof and doors and windows and water-wallowing troughs and grass beds.  We valiantly attempted to gather flies for our inmates, but it didn't take long for us to realise that it was a fools game so we liberated the frogs and looks at the ruined castle and reminisced.  At the end of that holiday, my first remembered interaction with ambulances came when my godbrother parted company with Linda, a beautiful chestnut - only he didn't part company fully, with his shoe catching in his stirrup and his flailing causing Linda to bolt.  My godbrother lived, but the end of the "holiday", looking back through this lens, may not have been very restful to my godmother.

The Sydney trip involved driving both ways in the brand new (to us) Chrysler - a brave move on my Dad's part because he thought that we could fit into a sedan.  On the upside, it had electric windows - on the down, it had floating suspension.

The windows died less than half a day into our trip.  The suspension floated for both days going down, and the day and a half going back.  Three country kids who generally fought over who got the window seats fought over who got the middle seat with the view of the road, while either side of him (or her on occasion) were ordering Dad and Mum to pull over more often than not.  Sometimes not in time.

My reintroduction to my oh-so-sofisticated godmother at then end of this marathon was presenting my doll Sandra to be put through the washing machine with all of her clothes in the valiant hope she would survive the ride.  I watched.  The only other thing that I really remember was going to Taronga Zoo and learning that you could possibly take pictures through the wire diamonds and maybe get better views of the animals - I received a small camera for my birthday (maybe my 8th or 9th?) and didn't realise that I was short-sighted.  After I got my photos back (a month later), I realised that while there was no wire in the way, I still couldn't make out the animals in the distance!  Oh, and my godsister and my godbrother - both older than I, like chalk and cheese from each other but whole different species to us.  These were verifiable city kids who knew all about the world around them an I was in awe.

I did "a fortnight's" work experience when I was at University, and I stayed at my godparents house in Sydney.  My godbrother still lived at home, and my godsister was in New Zealand - and for six weeks I shared their roof and their meals and their lives and it was wonderful.

At the end of that year, the company that I did work experience for invited me back, and they were my family base for the next 5 years, enjoying Sunday dinners and being their surrogate daughter, sister (my godsister had returned to Australia soon after) and granddaughter (my godmother's mother was an absolute hoot).

It wasn't all beer and skittles - especially if you didn't have a coaster.  You don't get an immaculate house or system going unless you are quite particular about how you stack the dishwasher or play a record or sit in the parlour - I was very country mouse at times, the times I found the soft spots at the edges of their tolerance levels, but we all enjoyed the sport!

Then I went on to live other lives and no doubt as did they.  We kept in touch the sporadic way that we did then and we do now - but each birthday, anniversary and festivity included a card or a call to the family or they to me.

My godfather passed a few years ago now, and my godmother lived alone for a long time, then in an apartment in a retirement village and of late her health had deteriorated to moving closer to her children (who had both chosen semi-rural lives in the end).  She passed away this afternoon with my godsister and my godbrother beside her and I am sure that she is now with her darling Don and wonderful Mum up there looking down on us.

Love you, Glen. 

Instant Idiot - just add

 water.

We heard him first 

The scream of the engine 

The spin of the wheels 

We had rain a week ago 

Enough to soak and and to sit and to funk

The lush parkland right across

there is a dream that this driver has

Festered upon 

For four nights.

and tonight it has peaked.

His wheels squeal right by 

Biting bitumen - this boy

Shrieking each turn.

Ripping across this calm Friday night 

Clear is the sky round Beaver Moon 

It Rends our peace.

But he's driving his dreams round all roads of this town 

Screech-shriek-spin-thrum-grunt-farkenwhathe-ever-lovin' hell.

The cars screams recurrent t'ards South

and I pray

Not today 

Not today 

Not today.

The BOM tribulations

(Apologies that I have confused people with the below.  BOM is the Bureau of Meteorology - a very integral government service in this very weather dependant land.)

Poor old BOM.

So out of touch with people, a year or so ago had a very middle-child response. A name change was launched without warning but much fanfare by some bureaucratic marketing department. They had decided that they didn't want to be called such a destructive homophone - does that make them homophoneophobic? - and preferred the more grown up version of The Bureau.

Nonsense, said the general public, we like your old stuff better than your new stuff.

Thus they reverted to BOM.

So came time for their website security upgrade, as burglars of today think nothing of mining your search history for when you are to be absent and your locale being more identifiable.

*Why not " the faceless them if the Bureau thought "change the curtains while the opportunity presents" but then chose to the most (metaphorically speaking) godawful mustard frill and misspelled Chinese cheap shit curtains for the Reno and the mother-in-law (aka ABC the public broadcaster - and then all other media outlets and their listeners and viewers) complained.

I totally get it. Lives may well be lost if they stuff up because of seemingly minor irritating merde as this.

But as all of my ancestors came by boat to this land 150-260 years ago, and they placed their lives into the hands of cavaliers harnessing the wind and a great deal of hope towards the goal of getting over to the other side of the planet, is complaining about this a little modern and soft-underbellied of us?

And they would have dreamt of a time that they could have known what tomorrow would bring, let along the lottery of crossing oceans in an uncharted future.

But poor old BOM needs our attention and the knowledge that they fit into our landscape without these petulant outbreaks.

So that is a longabout way of saying that it is stormy again here tonight and we hope to goodness that common sense and BOM work together on an upcoming sailing trip for a member of the family.

(Translation for those not inside my head - one daughter is off on a science under sail excursion for the next five days and I am hoping for calm conditions weather-wise)

Oh, and my (house hunting) shortlist went to two on Monday when one contender just seemed a little pokey on inspection. 

(The house hunting shortlist reduced again) To one by Friday lunch when I (finally) got the guts to enquire about the expensive but ve-ry nice one within spitting distance of work and discovered another "under offer" straight arm defence.

Which makes it (house hunting shortlist) basically Zero as my very first enquiry remains disengaged so I am doomed to never be an internet acquaintance from early this century's next door neighbour.

I had a brief love affair with one house near the end of a cul-de-sac but alas it too had been promised within three days of offer.

The market is what is known as hot.

(Lesson taken from above) Task one - sell and step into the unknown.

At that profundity the thunder rolled across the heavens and I will have to bid adieu.

I am to be away before 6 tomorrow so now must sleep.

Good night.

I slept in today

 which was not in the plans.  Paris had to work early, I had a task to undertake with 'Salina after and a dozen potential properties to peruse.

We are by no means ready, but if we waited until we were ready nothing would ever get done.  I am still viewing it all as practice runs.

 

As 'Salina had awoken early to undertake her task, she beneficently bestowed her navigation skills and critical eye to the project and within an hour, we had whittled that down to a possible four.

(The pictured property - a two-board white fence, shady green trees overhanging and a neat verge - first a view of the side yard from the south - south-east and then a view from the back and the driveway.  This is in the middle of town and not for sale - absolutely amazing block though, with the most unassuming front yard and private house)

As none of those four had pressing open houses, I returned home to cook gluten-free chocolate squares (I have book club and a work morning tea coming up in the next few days), make the shared areas presentable and write a list for the planned menu.  I had one curry from the freezer, one to use up from the pantry and intentions to make one of my favourites of late - Beef Kerahi (I am going to have to find the link to the recipe I have written down).

I had used precision timing, with the squares due from the oven at the time I would have to leave the house to collect Paris from her shift - however I forgot that the instruction was "ice while hot" so the quickest ever icing was ever concocted, maintaining the no gluten (and no dairy - the metric tonne of butter in the base probably makes that a futile gesture). 

(The pictured parkland is across the road from our current house.  This is one of the many mobs of kangaroos that live in my neighbourhood.  This picture has nothing to do with my day today - its just a picture for effect.)

Technically, I was two minutes late for the end of the shift, but I have solemnly promised Paris she is not in the blog so she shan't be. 

We went to see the one house that had a few very - quaint features, and a few - well, quainter features.  Unfortunately the real fireplace (although a hybrid between Brady Bunch and Jetsons styles), circular driveway and swimming pool attractions were  doused by the Edwardian room layout, the two burner stove, the rollercoaster pitch laundry path and the orange toilet.  

Darn I wish I could tell some of her stories, though.  There was a corker stimulated by this house visit.

Late edit - I have been expressly allowed to tell this story.

Paris said that the moment she stepped into the house, it was like she was in a time machine.  She channelled a 1950s housewife and started to have an anxiety attach that the children would be home any moment and she wouldn't have supper ready for them after homework.

The agent was the first one to actually sound at all enthused, but given the pool that I have access thus far is only 3 and the other 2 were male, it may not be statistically sound sampling yet.

Still, the number reduced to 3 maybes and a possibility. 

 When we came home from shopping and cursory coos at the cats at the shelter, I made my curry.  I chopped it all nicely and displayed on beautiful matching plates - and then completely forgot to take any photos.  That is the quality of food blogger you deal with here.

I did take a photo of the end result, though.

(yes, that is still the special 1970s that my phone has implemented as its standard filter)

Date night, as Paris went out to the movies tonight with a few other kids and one of the other kids lives down this end also, so I did the drive in leg and we had several hours before the others drive her home.

But realistic in our goals - a nice dinner and a bit of an episode of the Lee Mack 1% Club.   Might even lash out and do the washing up at some point.

Saturday night - how is yours? 

The minutiae of not much

 Of an update 

(Please note - photos are in no way related to post...)

As you yourself know all too well Debby, stuff somehow magically happens or it does not. In the hands of a higher power.

Cathy and River - by thinking "gee that date on the milk bottle resembles one familiar to today" and "I think I remember the path to mozzarella can be found with a junket tablet" and "I remember that I once bought junket tablets". Detours were caused by discovering my expensive cooking thermometer selection would work for a roast and would work for candy but was completely inadequate for cheesemaking purposes, discovery that a declutter had caused the demise of the Citric Acid, which had been deemed rarely required in modern life (salvaged by the juice of the last grapefruit of the season), discovering the inadequate thermometer had broken on the bench between bouts of curd-creating curdles on the stovetop, winging it, draining it, beating it, microwaving it and completely failing to get it to anything remotely resembling "stretching it and folding it". Despondent but resolute not to waste, the whey became pikelets and the cheese was refrigerated to take on my trip as "Goldie" (a complete typo in the previous post but I'll keep it) is my dream food inspiror. She is who declared it ricotta and it became a recurring feature of the feasting held.

Boud - no, indeed sought location is close to work - I drive about 30km each way (taking 1/2 -3/4 of an hour depending on school ). It will be a lot easier to commute.

Kelly - Debby is right, Power of Attorney. My aunt is relatively healthy if you consider she is 84 and has had health issues all of her life. POA wanted to ensure family were aware and nobody was taking advantage of anyone. Lovely lady. Up there with anecdotes as was the aunt.

Jeanie - it is one of those promethian conundrums, will womankind ever get to tick off the "sort $#!+ in office/spare room" checkbox.

Rita. I know. Who is this woman and why is she wearing my clothes?

BTW ai is getting very smart. I have a select group of commenters, more by chance than design - and I recently received a spam comment that was a work of art- either they have paid that monkey well or there is a tortured poet in PR purgatory. I left it there but be warned, the webpage attached to Jean S's name is selling something!

Apologies for complete lack of comments, replies, picture descriptors or links - I had done the latter and I touched the wrong thing apparently.

Night all. Tomorrow is another day (of work work work work then dr appointment (not for me - for the 3rd day in a row) then dinner, declutter and Ted Lasso). Life balance.