Life One Handed

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Emphasis On ‘A’

Published February 14, 2020 by helentastic67

Emphasis on ‘A’

Then, for the first time really ever, I dated. I dated a guy, the emphasis on ’A’ and like usual, some bitch had gotten to him first and he was more Roadkill than anything else.

We did the date thing for whatever and I had, had my diagnosis of my AVM and didn’t know what life and treatment would bring, but I had hopes I meant something to him, more than nothing.

After a third date that was more about us being ‘friends’ and watching films at my house (because my house had a heater and a cat!) etc.

*Sidebar; Imagine watching ‘Blue Dress’ with a new boyfriend, awkward!

So, I set about solving the boyfriend’s issues, trying to be a supportive girlfriend, hoping he would do the same with my treatment and recovery.

Let’s do a stocktake: –

  1. Alcoholic – fixed that. 🗸
  2. Separated, not divorced. 🗸
  3. Permanent Resident in Australia. 🗸
  4. Support him parenting his daughter. 🗸

This is starting to sound really bitter, which I’m not. In reality, he had his plans and I had mine and his did not include me.

It wasn’t until after we broke up and he was moving out to interstate for work that I learnt his mother did not even know I existed.

So, lesson learned.

If he had loved me, he would have still been here, with me and lord love that child, but not being a co-parent with the family make-up of that family, I dodged a bullet. Really!

I would have given it a red-hot go but I’m lucky I didn’t have too.

 

 

Let’s Be Friends

Published February 10, 2020 by helentastic67

Lets be Friends

So that is to say, when I was diagnosed, I did have a boyfriend. But all the boxes were ticked for it’s not a forever thing.

  • I’m a Nona, he wouldn’t let me feed him.
  • He would not sleep over (No, there was no sex) I’m fine with as he was not ‘fit’.

*Fit – The term I picked up from living with two British Geezers for a month, to describe someone as ‘Sexy’. They flicked through a magazine to point out all the pictures; “Fit! Fit! Fit! Not Fit!” Hilarious.

Fit

Not Fit

 

And we’re back.

And he was working, but had some crazy idea that he was the ‘Hero’ in every scenario. He had moved back home at 37. You get me, right?

Oh, good lord. Guys just have that deer in the headlight look, don’t they?

What are we doing? Is this working?

Fine! I’ll rip the band-aid off.

“Let’s be friends!”

We remained friends for some years, which was more what we had been anyway. But…..

And Next

Published February 7, 2020 by helentastic67

And Next

A few years back I went to my High School reunion (25 years) and one particular guy asked me these questions.

“Married?”
And my reply, short and sweet “No”
“Divorced?”
(in my head WFT) Again “No”
Then “Children?”
“What?” (again, in my head WFT) “No! Why?”

Now, I do not feel I’ve failed at life because I’ve not done any of those things. I have dated, not much dating. More meet a guy, spend time with said guy (No! Not bonk each other’s brains out) maybe a little, but the stuff you do to work at, if you want to be permanently attached to this person forever.

What? I am a hopeless romantic. I just am not willing to throw myself at every man out there to find a decent one.

Sidebar: Where the hell are the decent one’s by the way?

I digress, I’ve had relationships. Sure, they broke my heart. The others, I broke theirs, or they didn’t have a heart to break.

I have the mentality to not go back when a relationship is over. Alas, if it didn’t work the first time and the one’s that got away have never come back.

And NEXT.

Single Barren Spinster

Published February 3, 2020 by helentastic67

Single Barren Spinster

Australia has a comedienne called Kitty Flanagan. This is a great way to start this post. I’m going with it.

 

I read a brilliant article where she explains why she is reclaiming the title Single Barren Spinster. She explains in this article she planned to have children if the circumstances were right.

Partner/Husband/Significant other – Tick, tick, tick

Baby – Tick

https://www.smh.com.au/opinion/being-childfree-is-no-reason-to-keep-mum-20150108-12kcan.html

As she got older, the clock started ticking and she states she didn’t want to do it alone. The above seemed important to her.

Tick!
Tick!
Tick!

And I agree, I completely agree. In my teens, I thought by my late 20’s, I would have a husband, two children, my own interior decoration business, a retail outlet, holiday’s overseas, a house, etc.

Oh God! Teenagers are so naive, aren’t they? And now, alas I’m 46 years old (47 by the time this goes live, however) none of the above happened.

I quote Kitty Flanagan and being a Single Barren Spinster to any carer and they look at me for a moment. I tell them in the dictionary under ‘Single Barren Spinster’ is a picture of Kitty Flanagan.

Then there’s a picture of me.

Sleep Clinic – Part 2

Published January 31, 2020 by helentastic67

Sleep Clinic – Part 2

So, today I thought I’d do the FU (follow up) on my sleep clinic experience. Hilarious.

It’s been six months since my last confession. (no, I stand by that comment)

The goal since I was last there, was to improve my sleeping pattern, because I go to bed late (or early, depends how you look at it) and don’t want to wake in the morning.

And today, I reported I’m still struggling to get to bed/sleep by 1am. (I repeat 1am) But alas, it usually takes me that long to get to and from appointments, do chores, do the TV/Current Affairs catch-ups. Because, I still need to know what’s happening out there in the world and what stupid Tweets some ‘world leaders have said.’

WFT people! How has he still got a Twitter account? Why has somebody not taken it off him? (Don’t answer that)

Hey, I’m not saying our Prime Minister is a model citizen, but c’mon.

Anyway, I digress.

My original diagnosis after the sleep clinic was very mild sleep Apnoea. Don’t panic, I’m not worried. I was told to avoid sleeping on my back. No, really. That’s the solution to that.

Besides this I might have secondary Narcolepsy and I kept telling him I knew what that was because, I lived through the 90’s and saw My Own Private Idaho with River Phoenix (RIP) and Keanu Reeves (mmmmm) in it. We don’t even know if I have that until I fix/improve my sleeping pattern.

Today, I tried to Hel-splain (like Man-splain, but Helen does it) why improving my sleeping pattern is so near impossible.

  1. It’s winter right now as I write this, so if I woke early, I’m going to get up/do what I have to do and go back to bed, because it’s warm there and sleep, because I’m still tired.
  2. I’ve got crazy Bitch Hormones. I am sliding into the Pause (Menopause) so two weeks out of every month I am just knackered and the first week, I’ve forgotten why but let myself sleep in the afternoon if I just can’t stay awake and thing’s hurt and I can’t work out why.
  3. Then there’s the Carpel tunnel. WFT is this bullshit. I’m back fast asleep for two hours and the pain in my right hand is excruciating. A cross between pins and needles and numbness. Pick a lane already. I change positions and stretch out my arm and hand. It hurts to touch the blankets and I can’t even make myself stretch my hand above my head to the top of the bedhead, put my fingers under the top of the timber to stretch my arm in all the right places to relieve the symptoms. So, I lie on my back with my arm flung out to the side, wriggling my fingers until the pain subsides.
  4. Migraines for me are often daily occurrences. While not the normal type that send you to bed, or go to bed with the lights off and a bucket nearly, they are still really crappy. And I’d rather go to bed and sleep it off than get “pilled” and be bombed out. I could potentially medicate every day and who wants that?

And Z. I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON! Have you met me? My name is Helen. Some years ago, my mum told me I was born just in time for breakfast at 7.13am. Who the fuck has breakfast at 7.13am willingly? (don’t answer that) Mum also suggested, on my birthday to wake at that time and make a list of goals to achieve by the following birthday. Something of setting intentions or other, but seriously.

If I’m having breakfast at 7am in the morning, I’d be ready for dinner at 6pm and bed by 9pm. If I’m going to bed at 9pm, I’m ready for the Nursing Home.

I’m not ready for that yet.

Love and Drinking

Published January 27, 2020 by helentastic67

Love and Drinking

For someone who barely drinks, I have remembered this quote for a lifetime. I’m not looking for love at all. I’ve imagined love might find me. I’ve never thought to look for love or even just answers to life in a bottle. No judgement to anyone that does. I just don’t get it? I guess due to alcohol thinning one’s blood, drinking never made me feel particularly great. So, I’ve not given it a good hot go. I don’t think I’m missing anything.

 

STONE COLD SOBER

LOOKING FOR BOTTLES

OF LOVE

That reminds me to write the post about discovering the dark secret! It was the pro line for black opal Nera Sambuca back in the early ‘90’s. I didn’t need to discover it, I happily waited to be informed. Let someone else take the hit on that one!

Sometimes you just want to short and sweet.

To be continued…….

 

Birkies – Part 3

Published January 24, 2020 by helentastic67

Birkies – Part 3

Yes, I’m finally getting back to it, part three. I’ve given you the context, but the reason you needed the context was for this part. I had a dream the other day, I don’t generally dream about places I’ve lived except the previously mentioned house I lived with my favourite housemate “B”.

For a few years I lived there alone with B and after a year of the house being in some form or other of needing repairs after a horrible storm, where I was home alone trying to prioritise if I rescued my thing’s or B’s (The answer is both, but mine first) and the last few years (we were there four years all up) my then boyfriend moved in, making it cleaner and cheaper.

But I dream about it sometimes, crazy dreams where I’m in my old bedroom, on a bed that isn’t made, the bed is higher off the ground and I’m leaning back against pillows and there are two young children (not mine, I don’t have any) playing on the bed.

My mum is out and girls are on the pillows around me. There are other details I recall from this dream too, but don’t seem relevant and I remember them for weeks without any idea why this seems important to revisit.

I’ve recently increased my very mild anti-depressants to help with my “Crazy Bitch Hormones” and sleeping problems. Although the dreams are getting weirder and my desire to hurt people has not diminished.

I’m debating with whether this as the happiest time in my life and this is why my subconscious returns there? But the dreams are always vivid and immaculately detailed.

Why am I hiding under the round formed dining table in the room that was B’s bedroom? What am I even doing inside? How can they not see me?

Can the manufacturers of anti-depressants get this shit sorted out? I never took drugs in the 90’s, so it’s all new to me and I don’t like it.

Sort this shit out please!

Birkies – Part 2

Published January 20, 2020 by helentastic67

 

Birkies – Part 2

Now, you may ask, did we ever work out who this neighbourhood passive/aggressive carpark stealer was? With the red Barina and the nickname for a company on the side?

Why yes, we did and I worked it out because I’m the cluey one in the house at the time. The following conversation I had with B is why I loved sharing with him.

I didn’t think of the name, but I knew he would tell me if I prompted him, this is how the conversation went.

“What’s the name of the women’s shoes?”

I know that didn’t actually help much and he answered as any self-respecting straight man would.

“I’m not good with women’s shoe brands.”

Turns out that was a lie.

“What are those shoes that German/Lesbian backpacker tourists wear?”

Before you get all OMG Helen, you didn’t. He replied swiftly.

“Oh, Birkenstocks.”

Yes. Oh, we laughed.

We had neighbours who were German (No offense) they had a house next door that was originally two houses, they bought that, had been renovated to make a bigger house. Eventually, after we moved out and our house was sold, they bought it and renovated it after four years and merged it into theirs.

They had family live out here for six months every year to be with their family. Ok, that’s done. Now the reason I had to give you that context?

 

Burkies – Part 1

Published January 17, 2020 by helentastic67

Burkies – Part 1

Ok, the next two short posts are purely context for the third, I now must write today. So, bare with me and strap in for a bit of a chuckle.

When I was first diagnosed in 2007, I lived with my favourite housemate down in Clifton Hill. My favourite housemate even in twenty years of sharing, will as he has in the past, go by the name of ‘B’. The street we lived on ‘F’. We lived on a corner of ‘F’ and whatever the side street was.

During peak hour F street became the alternative route for people not wanting to use Hoddle Street, which was once described by my friend Frank as the carpark. Clifton Hill often had many commuters drive from the outer suburbs, so they could catch the tram from there to work.

The home was brick veneer and our bedrooms were right at the front of the house, surprisingly not as noisy to sleep as you might think.

We had a tiny bathroom, an equally small kitchen with an old Aga, where I stored my gladwrap, foil and such. To put it in perspective, an Italian couple had immigrated to Australia back in the 40’s and this was their first home, where they had, had and raised their children before moving out to the suburbs (as they did).

We had an outside toilet; we did have a garage and possums in the backyard which I fed bread. No, don’t eat that, eat the bread. That’s my finger! Eat the bread!

Anyway, I digress, B parked his car at the front of F street and occasionally he would not be able to park in this spot and he would become quite grumpy.

We consulted over this mysterious red car that was in ‘his’ spot. It was a little red Barina and it has stencilled letters on the side. You know, like those for Tupperware or Mary Kay or Avon.

Anyway, even if you know who is parking in your car spot, you can’t really say anything to them because it seems you are being rude. You resolve this dilemma in all good neighbourhood squabbles with the appropriate passive/aggressive culture of you just keep your car there until they stop trying to park there.

Anyway, B didn’t drive his car for a good few months, maybe he couldn’t afford his rego or whatever. B decided to sell it.

One particular Saturday, he called RACV who were out the front getting his car started. That afternoon, a woman came to see the car and buy it. Ironically, she had gotten a job as a Personal Carer (Support Worker) and needed a car. What a small world.

After the sale was completed, I was moving from one room to another and saw B standing inside the front door, which was timber and glass and he was (from where I was) hugging the door. I thought maybe he was sad to see his car go. He had inherited it from his grandmother.

I went past him a second time and he was still there, so I prompted him “Are you OK?” his reply came after a few moments. A car engine idled in the distance.

“Yes, I’m just making sure she got through the lights down the street and it didn’t conk out” or something to that affect, he was concerned she would come back insisting on a refund.

Moments like these.

Foil

Published January 13, 2020 by helentastic67

Foil

Pray tell, anybody? Please explain how this is still a thing? (rhetorical) Every now and again, someone is in my home using foil in the capacity to assist me. Lovely people that they are and I’m having a conversation with them, I thought their mum would have had. Or somebody. No?

Just thought perhaps I should Google this topic before foil-shaming everybody, but don’t want to lose my train of thought. So, alas I will forge on, finish then Google and share Google results. Sure!

Damn it, now I’m doubting myself and over thinking it. Forge on. Do you know, there is a right and a wrong side of foil? Well let me tell you. There is indeed.

You should always put the shiny side down over whatever you are baking or if wrapping something inside it? Shiny side up, put in contents and fold foil over food to seal in the goodness. Something to do with insulating it.

Every now and again, more often than you can imagine, I am explaining to someone, different race, religion, age, etc, etc, etc. This fact, how is this so?

Now Google. Got a little lost in the over thinking, however!

Google. God, I hope I’m right.

Well, itself propagated as a Google search, it has been so very popular. I’m just saying I was not the first person to ask. I didn’t read them all and there are varied opinions.

I’m just saying the shiny side retains heat better and doesn’t stick and I will finish by saying to all the Americans out there. You say Aluminum wrong too. OK, how about weird?

 

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