What’s Your Budget?

Published July 19, 2019 by helentastic67

 

What’s Your Budget?

This might be one of my most hated questions. Particularly now when I don’t work and have little or no ability to increase the cash-flow coming in. I think I hate it more than the ‘What have you done to your arm?’ (because I’m so immune to that one now)

When I recently went to Freedom Furniture to assess the new couch scenario and the younger gay guy asked me my budget. I’ve never worked within a budget as such. I’m more of a I need this (XYZ) it costs (XYZ) how do I make this happen? What do I love without? Can I save for it? Or lay-by it?

On the upside, I’m not an idiot, I will not do that financial trap of “Buy now and don’t pay any interest, pay it off over the next five years.”

No. No. No. Abort. Abort. Never. Never.

So, my answer to the salesperson was; any amount I can realistically ask from my father without him having a stroke.

So he walked me over to the cheaper end of the showroom. Hey! I’ve got this arm already, great. That’s rather telling isn’t it?

I should mention I upgraded my arm when I had some one-off funding and getting a two-seater with a chase haunt in the hot summer days, it was long enough for me to lie down on in the lounge with the AC on, so I could sleep.

These days, living in an apartment now, I have two bedrooms. I could live without a spare bedroom since I don’t often have guests anymore, but I couldn’t live without my study.

The definition of a study if based on my study is ‘a room for a desk, bookcase, filing cabinets and where things get stored.

So, these days if guests stay, they sleep on my couch and that definitely seems it’s got to be wide and long enough to be comfortable.

 

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Today’s Lunch – 17th July 2019

Published July 17, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

I actually had a nice lunch here yesterday on my own. Even did some writing, catching up on the back log. Had two appointments with two different GP’s, so got to have lunch in between.

Monday, I learnt what the financial value is of my time to sit on a committee board as a consumer of public health. I do some voluntary efforts. Some, monthly meetings, locally a bi-monthly meeting all to contribute to offering feedback and ideas on how my experiences can improve other people’s ability to use or access the system we all have access to. There’s plenty of emails, phone calls and politics at times. And none of it paid.

It’s considered we all do it for the love of it, it sometimes it all has its own rewards, like when I got to go to a dinner at Government House a few weeks ago. But nothing helps put food on the table better than cold hard cash! So, for a 3-hour gig I have been told my time is worth $40. Might be having a Naomi Campbell moment but I’m considering setting the standard of not getting out of bed for less than $100. What’s say you?

Meanwhile, today’s lunch consists of a Pumpkin & Spinach Arancini, with side salad and today my medicine is complimentary and comes with a chocolate macaron.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But today I was introduced to my chiropractor’s new resident Enzo. So coot!

Dad

Published July 15, 2019 by helentastic67

Dad

I rang my dad last week. Oh? You may wonder where this is going. It’s not going anywhere you imagine. Just trust me.

I rang him, he never rings me. He is my Italian parent, if you recall and it is fifty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

The first five minutes he starts with ‘oh, I don’t know if you know/I don’t know if I told you?’ and I have to be rude and interrupt him to remind him, I saw him at Christmas and he has Sciatica and his left leg hurts.

Yes. Then he’s confused and surprised I am aware. A bit of extra information re my Pa, is that he was a builder all his life, he retired a little early, due to having bowel cancer. Don’t stress, he had chemo and radiation, he beat it.

NOT COMPLAINING

Then he got/had bladder cancer. (at least he is consistent, same are of the body) and he’s beaten that (again not complaining).

While he hasn’t got dementia, he is seventy-years old, I think undiagnosed, he may have had a series of heart attacks and strokes or just a bit of ‘brain-faze’ from all his treatments. Relax, he’s cancer free.

In reality, with his very serious dedication to smoking, cancer may eventually be his downfall, but he will not go down without a fight. But right now, he’s doing everything he can to complain about everything and not listen to anything I have to say to help.

Anyway, I digress, he then went into a rant about he would do anything to not have to use a walking stick to get around and how hard it is when half your body doesn’t work.

Oh my God, when he uttered those words and he could not be interrupted because he was not done. So, if you can’t feel my eyeroll and if I’d been there, he would have received a sever bitch slap (or a back hander).

He was so severely oblivious to who had had just made that comment to, I decided to give him one of my classic Helen lines.

“Shut the fuck up”

He actually stopped talking (I was impressed). Now, you may think that is the rudest thing and completely disrespectful to speak to one’s father that way. But, however, I will say that to my mother and she does. So, I should be able to say it to my father.

I love both my parents; I just love them differently and I deal with them both as sternly as they each need and can take.

Honestly, I am much tougher with my mum because if I don’t pull her into line no one will and on somethings she will never change, so I’ve learned to let it go. I guess I’ve learned to choose my battles there also.

Ah, the fifty minutes I said I’d never get back, yes! My father, at 70 decided to get a smart phone! His first smart phone and likely his first taste of the internet!

And I proceeded to help-desk him through how to use his search engine! “Dad, just put your finger in the white bar up the top!” And he grumbles the (and I stress) “typewriter” has gone away!” God help me! “Just tap in the white bar dad and the keyboard will appear!”

And fifty fucking minutes later! KMKMKMKM!!!!!!!(Kill Me!) That was the fifty fucking minutes of my life I will never get back! And I’m not even the Samsung daughter! I’m the Apple daughter!

 

And hit Like!

 

Sisters

Published July 12, 2019 by helentastic67

Sisters

So, this will be a totally rare time I include the name of a business/company/service, I currently use. You will notice I don’t ever mention the name of my favourite café? Yeah, most of my followers are on foreign soil, so it’s irrelevant, but sometimes it’s hard enough to get a seat as is. That’s the only reason why though.

So, today I will mention one of the Care Providers I use, same reason as above, but it’s relevant to the story. This is also a likely example of how life has a tendency to go in full circles.

Ok, Circa 90’s when I worked in clubs with Malcolm (you can read about him here)

https://hellonwheelslifeonehanded.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/gdg-grand-daddy-goth/

He had (just like any DJ of that era) Yes, Yes what was generally referred to as a toilet song. You hear a certain song come on. Don’t get in a DJ’s way. It’s usually a rather long song/track that is long enough to get to the toilet, the bar and back to the DJ’s booth.

It was usually this one

My Carers come from Mercy Health. They manage the homes where all the retired nuns live. There is a women’s hospital (Mercy Health).

I am by all means not suggesting they are the best, but I’m never going to bother mentioning the ONLY agency that didn’t ask for me to participate in the regular NDIA audit and provide feedback about their services. Am I correct?

So, anyway, my carer today was telling me where she had to go after me. Most of my carers visit the nuns. I hear about it all the time.

So, my carer today said she was going off to the Sisters of Mercy and everything after that went straight over my head.

Back in the 90’s when I worked in clubs, I was NOT GOTHIC. But sometimes, I wore more, shall I say, socially acceptable styles to not ‘offend’ the Goths. There was always a boy with this…..

It was the era after all and sometimes I would just outright wear my dungarees (because they were light and comfy) and other times I wore my bright coloured raver street wear.

I miss those days.

However, The Sisters of Mercy (the band not the nuns.) is touring later in the year. I’m debating about seeing them. The play at The Forum, two days after my birthday.

Today’s Lunch – 10th July 2019

Published July 10, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

This week! God help me! For a single barren spinster, there are no bigger words to put the fear of God into me than these “school holidays!”

Parents should be made to enjoy their time with their spawn at home in solitude or grandparents even. Totally getting why grandma had a happy hour. I am not a fan of school holidays. My ovaries dry up.

My girl Tuesday (support worker, one of my regulars) was in a lift in the city and suggested the lift should have music. I reminded her in a building full of people with disabilities and oxide sensitivities that would not go down well. So I proceeded to put this song in her head!

You are welcome!

Was in the city for the last two days, yesterday I didn’t leave until 4.30pm meaning I actually got home in the dark. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned? I can’t see in the dark and I then had to complete all my chores and some and didn’t sit down and take my shoes off until 8pm. Although thanks to my Indian taxi driver Young Deepak, I had eaten dinner by 9pm. He had given me a curry.

I didn’t actually eat lunch today but such an early dinner prompted me to ask Noelle, “is this what it’s like to be old?” and Noelle is my age, so misplaced that it was.

Looking forward to lunch today, an almond croissant and my medicine!

 

Dreams

Published July 8, 2019 by helentastic67

Dreams

I had a dream yesterday; well I dream a lot. But mostly I have weird dreams where 3 or 4 crazy things are smashed into.

I dream, it usually includes house that are apparently my home, there is definitely a feeling of this is my home to it, but they are places I don’t recognise, in area’s that remind me of the 90’s, my earlier days but yet not in areas I would live in now.

At such times the details are insane, a door handle that isn’t working properly, reminds me of houses I have lived in. Opening a door to the outside and seeing an abundance of plants hanging from the eaves with bright red tomatoes in abundance. Then my sister is there. Well, either of my sisters would be strange.

The other times I’M ON ROLLER SKATES. Anyone else having these dreams? Yeah, I did roller skate when I was a kid and I’ve a friend who does Roller Derby.

But my dream, I was roller skating around the city, around Federation Square and I had some speed, was cutting in and around people and not hitting anybody and still managing to stay upright.

HOW? I don’t know…

Then I got to the top of some stairs and I just flew down them, my wheels catching the platform in between the second drop of stairs and still UPRIGHT. People cheered!

I guess I am not prepared to try roller skating as I imagine I don’t need scrapes and wounds to add to my drama. But it was a nice dream with a feeling of freedom, success and achievement.

 

Sleep Clinic

Published July 5, 2019 by helentastic67

 

Sleep Clinic

A few months before Christmas, I had an appointment for a specialist clinic. It was the sleep clinic.

Never have two words put a greater fear into me. Well not fear perhaps, that’s exaggerating slightly, but still I sleep, I just sleep at the wrong times and I’ve just made it work and I don’t want to change.

The doctor told me he’d book me into the sleep clinic for a sleep-over. I was concerned I had sleep apnoea. (it’s not only when you snore, but when you stop breathing) I woke with my throat, glands in my neck and nose feeling kinda weird, sore and dry, plus a dream or two where I’ve felt like someone was choking me. So, sleep clinic good.

The doctor told me he wouldn’t get me in before Christmas, but maybe before Easter, which gives you an idea how much of a waiting list there was and also how he didn’t think I was going to be at a rick of dying before he would book me in. So, all was good.

Until, I got a call early December, they had a cancellation before Christmas, did I want to come in Early?

FYI: ALWAYS SAY YES!

So, I was booked in about a week before Christmas. I parked my laptop, took my overnight bag with my PJ’s and my toothbrush, my dinner and off I went. I caught the tram from my door and the extra baggage was pretty hardcore pulling me off balance, but nearly took me.

 

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