Not my best

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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.

Today’s Lunch – 15th January 2020

Published January 15, 2020 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

After a nice Christmas break, I’m back at my favourite cafe. Most appointments have returned to normal. Visit to my chiropractor I foresee, me well-adjusted finally and tape on my left shoulder. It’s Tuesday night as I tap this out, but I’m predicting my chiropractor will work on my neck and ask if I’ve had a migraine? I will shrug with a “yeah, sure” and she will ask for how long and I will remind her I am 47 now! So, it’s hard to tell? I’m a every week chiro subscriber, because I need it! When I’m struggling with migraines, ribs out of whatever I might go twice or even thrice in a week. If bloody only the NDIA would get onboard!  Mustards! (It’s a swear word substitute)

Oh, Monday I had a lovely lady’s lunch with my friend Susanne. We had lunch down in Westgarth and then saw a film. I’m still way behind in my films. I had a hamburger minus the bun, another perfect example of why Helen cannot do Insta? I had already cut into it.

We saw “Little Woman” it was not only women in the audience but every now and again a character would do something (not quite right) and there was a little murmur shared around the cinema, then a giggle. If you haven’t seen it, do. It was really good.

I was also given a compliment yesterday, from a friend. I sent her a photo of how I manage my “Out-Tray” near my front door.

She likened me to her Nana, not appreciating being liked to an elderly lady. Hey! It’s okay when I do it? As I refer to myself as a Nona all the time. She responded with her Nana was the most productive woman she has ever known. I’ll take it.

And finally, before the storm hits today to put out some fires and dampen the smoke haze, lunch today is, the old classic pancetta quiche with side salad and medicine! Happy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers,
H

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?

 

Efficient – Part 2

Published January 10, 2020 by helentastic67

Efficient 2

Now, you might imagine having carers or to use their current tittle “Support Workers” is so easy (said no one ever). But you really should imagine it’s like having “staff” or running a busy café where people come for short shifts and someone else off site manages their comings and goings and they might work for several agencies that give them clients/shifts. Now, I’ve been doing this ‘shit’ for about thirteen years and it’s still not perfect.

I like being very efficient to make my life work best and normally the less times I have to tend something, the more efficient it is. However, the more times I have to touch something to have it run smoothly the way it should because, it’s the way I asked for it the first fucking time, it’s always getting moved.

Of course, I have an example for you!

My carer should arrive on a Sunday morning at 10am for a ninety-minute shift. My main agency that covers all my PC (Personal Care) morning shifts has a few carers who are prepared to do weekend work, so they have outsourced me to another agency. Now, we know from Japanese whispers, the more people involved in relaying a single message, the results or the goal sets diluted and altered when your shift gets outsourced, it works the same way.

Also, because I’m not in the office rostering, but I’m on the cold-face (recurring service) I know more about the big picture. Also, because I make conversation with the carers, because they are in my home.

This particular Sunday, it was my mum’s 70th and family were converging from two different directions at my place at 12pm. Are you doing the maths?

They arrive at 10am, leave by 11.30am, I may cut ‘something’ small to get me through to midday lunch. A call to my main agency (let’s call them MH) during the week, told me she would be coming at 11am.

 

What? NO!

I rang MH and told them it had to be 10am because of XYZ. They rang the agency (let’s call them MC) because I can. They locked it in for 10am. Bingo, right?

Um, don’t be fucking ridiculous. On the morning, I woke early, got back to sleep eventually and kept waking, stressed she would arrive on time.

10am – I woke, no carer, it’s cold, so I stayed in bed to wait. 10.30am, BUZZ. My carer had arrived, late. Yet her roster states 11am.

I am of the understanding she sometimes has a catering order that needs to be filled. It’s rather ad-hoc so not consistent and I know this because people come to my home, so I get to know them.

As I have a brain injury, I often find people underestimate how switched on I am. It’s a misconception all brain injured people must be stupid. We are not and I’m speaking for all people with brain injuries. You’re Welcome.

So, I know when this shit happens, I am fully aware of who did what, who didn’t and who just said they would fix the roster and never intended to and the fact that I know this is all very taxing too.

I’m an overthinker, I think its anxiety and I think part of it is being a high functioning ABI. And the majority is my need to be efficient, because why is it so fucking difficult?

So, every day, there are examples of this where I need to touch on something to get it running smoothly.

 

Today’s Lunch – 8th January 2020

Published January 8, 2020 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

My appointments are all starting back again way too soon. Yesterday, I returned to Clifton hill to see my GP and as my favourite cafe is not yet back after Christmas, I found another place to have a quick light lunch. a rather strong coffee with an almond croissant. Neither as good as at my regular haunt. Over my respite, I wrote some blogposts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I confess to say over Christmas and the New Year, I’ve only left my apartment on the Friday’s to restock. I have not even checked my letterbox. Do I feel badly? No, I do not.

Tuesday ended with my egg dealer delivering my eggs. In my efforts to create community, I have become the middle person between my egg supplier, Bill who I prefer to call my egg dealer and about four others for free range happy-eggs! I was expecting him Thursday evening but he ended up in the area earlier. Just in time for a true wog classic. Poached eggs in sauce, these were the two eggs before I put them in the sauce. Feel free to count?

The trays of eggs are 20 to a tray. My masseuse is not back from India until next week and she has forty eggs awaiting her return. I then of course like to remind people if they don’t collect them In a timely manner, I don’t want to wake up in the morning surrounded by 100 baby chicks recently hatched.

To be clear, I think Bill delivers the day the eggs get picked. You realise, eggs do not grow on trees? And eggs need to be sat on, by a hen for some weeks or kept warm another artificial way to hatch presuming they are even viable.

My mum had about twenty chooks when I lived up in the country 20 years ago. So, in short waking up surrounded by little yellow chicks. Not going to happen. But I hope you can imagine the image I just described…..?

Poor Mika would be beside herself! Get them off me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Also, don’t think I’ve ignored the worldwide exposure of the bushfires in Australia! Melbourne has a Smokey haze over it. Homes and lives have been lost and it’s just the start of summer. It’s just the beginning……………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will be back to normal programming next week for sure!

Sleep

Published January 6, 2020 by helentastic67

Sleep

There is never enough when you have a brain injury. Never enough. Add, crazy bitch hormones as I call them, the Peri-menopausal hot flushes, sliding into the pause.

More sleep, much, much more sleep.

But, finally following up on my visit to the clinic. Yeah, I’ve been busy and am now circling back to the thing. I had to go to an older building that is on the same block as the St Vincent’s Hospital in Fitzroy. Seen this entrance for years wondering what was in there. Well, now I know.

I went in a little early, off Nicholson Street and was shown to my “room”. Mum had been to a sleep clinic in the country and told me it would be like a self-contained hotel room.

Mine, no it wasn’t. The room had a single bed – expected. An armchair, nice place to put suitcase and sit to take off shoes and AFO’s – check. A small hand basin, oh nice. Where was the bathroom? Apparently, there were only three of us in the inn that night, me and two men and I got the room closest to the ‘Men’s’ bathroom.

Super! Where’s the lady’s bathroom? Oh great, no shoes or AFO’s. I’ve gotta go for a nice long walk to the lady’s bathroom. Past the waiting room, finished with a big vinyl chair in Orange.

Now, I’m a kid of the 70’s, we had an orange car.

And an orange kitchen bench. (Yes, mum! I hear your voice, it was Mandarin) Sue me! I’ll let you be the judge.

The Doctor who was showing me around was the same age as me and we bonded over the orange of our childhoods.

You know those moments you meet people and if you meet them in completely different circumstances, you might become friends.

We bonded over the fact that neither of us live with other people. I bluntly stated “I fucking hate people!” She laughed and said I was her spirit animal.

 

 

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