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Pinkish

Hello Everyone, I am not quite in the pink of health but I am improving. I was feeling not too bad about my current circumstances after seeing the doctor for a pre-arranged check-up (not related to my illness) today. That was, until I got home ….

My True Love asked whether the doctor had looked in my ears? But no, he hadn’t. I told the doctor that I couldn’t hear well (ie. very limited), but he didn’t check my ears. There were other things to discuss that I could barely hear. My TL suggested that the doctor may have interpreted that to mean that I was just getting old and suffering from age-related hearing loss! Nothing to worry about that my hearing aids (left at home) couldn’t fix. My son suggested that the sloshing in my ear might be because I had puss on the eardrum. So I panicked and resorted to Dr Google. The prognosis is not good. I could have permanent hearing loss or cancer of the nose, or another two week wait to see the doctor for an ear infection that requires antibiotics now. I could have a prophylactic antihistamine and I did.

Needless to say, readers, it has been a shitty few weeks of flu-like symptoms. Since I was the only one in the family that was too busy to get a flu shot and the only one who succumbed to this horrible lurgy, then one and one is … I dunno. Anyway, I had my flu shot today.

Anyway, anyway, let’s have a flower photo to pink things up here.

Pelagonium rodneyanum – Australian National Botanic Gardens


Hope you are all in the pink. Take care, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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The Big Reveal

In a moment of sheer panic and disbelief, I revealed something of myself, that is, a nagging concern about my forgetfulness and seemingly habitual carelessness. I am sure this came as no surprise to anyone given the name of this blog site.

I will let you in on something else important to me. I love photography. That is why I was so cross with myself when I recently lost my camera SD card. I only have two cards, one good and one not so good. Photography is a window to the world, a place mark and time stamp, don’t you think? It organises me.

I am calmer, more observant and patient when I am taking photos. I find that which is hidden may be revealed by chance or as it catches the light. Somewhere. Somehow.

Too much suspense?

So when I eventually found my SD card, I was immensely relieved. It was not in the fridge or under the fridge, in the bathroom or at the bottom of a bag of weeds as I feared. The dog hadn’t eaten it, nor was it on any shelf known to harbor such treasured objects. I owe its discovery all to you, dear Readers, and your kind and sympathetic comments. I really do. Because when I opened my laptop to respond to those comments, there it was. Surprise!

I should blog more often, don’t you think? Anyway, it makes a good story with a happy ending.

Take care, everyone, and thank you.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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Follow That Man

Some hospitals have a bit of kit that allows friends and family to track the whereabouts of their loved ones that have been admitted to hospital. I’m not sure whether I like it. For example, when your True Love is in theatre, the app indicates this. However, it doesn’t tell you what is taking so long. Of course, as the anxiety builds and the hours stretch out, the tracker is prone to wondering what happens if the patient (the tracked) dies In Theatre? Fortunately, people come out of theatre sooner or later and when they do, the app indicates that the patient has Exited Theatre. It is left to the tracker to imagine in what condition the patient exited the theatre. When the last update occurs late in the evening, the tracker may have a certain reluctance to call the hospital for information given the hour.

Information provided to families with loved ones in a particular hospital advises that due to the Covid situation, visitors should consider the need to visit and encourages calling loved ones instead. The few times that I have been to hospital to be spliced open to remove wrigglers, I was groggy for days afterward so I do not think it would be at all wise to ring the tracked directly after surgery because clearly that person would be in recovery and not taking calls or back on ward and potentially indisposed, or worse. Having discussed this situation with the wrigglers, we can only presume that someone from the hospital would ring us if the patient was in a bad way or worse. There must be some limits to this app. Surely? Presumably?

All will be revealed. I guess. Tomorrow.

I need a song. I can’t think of a better one than Katie Melua singing If You Were A Sailboat.

I have turned off comments so that I can freak out.

Take care, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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How To Impress Your Boss – A Haibun

Once, in an important work meeting with the senior execs, I opened my notepad and was confronted by a huge, black cockroach that had taken up residence between the pages of my notepad. We all saw it waving its monstrous antennae as it contemplated its next move. I made a hasty exit from the meeting, at which point the cockroach made its own dash for freedom. There may have been screaming. Did the bigwigs help with the dispatch? What do you think? I love my life.

Eyes agog. Cockroach!
One extra makes a quorum.
Best meeting ever.

True story, one which is best told on a weekend when nobody is reading.

I have never regretted being a pesticide-free household.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

NaPoWriMo #23

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The Final Frontier

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.

Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

It is a game until it isn’t. Let’s listen to Peter Gabriel’s Games Without Frontiers today.

I have been hearing a lot about the hypocrisy of individuals and national governments lately. I imagine that this is distressingly irrelevant to people who find themselves in the middle of a war zone through no fault of their own. Still, it would be nice if those who have engaged in tribal warfare and rhetoric could find it in themselves to put their weapons down for all our sake. That would be true leadership and worthwhile human endeavour.

Stay safe, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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How Long Is Too Long?

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.

My True Love (TL) has several standard responses and I am meant to remember what they are as I hear them on a semi-regular basis. I never do. They never make it to long term memory unless I have something interesting to stick them too.

Anyway, I asked my TL why we don’t have a favourite lovey dovey song like other couples, although I probably wouldn’t remember it even if we did. His response to this phenomenon, ie. a couple’s song, was to pretend to gag. Apologies to couples out there with a special song.

Photo by Kampus Production on Pexels.com

Anyway, anyway, the next question I asked him was how long have we been married. Dates don’t stick in my memory either. Anyway, anyway, anyway, his response was “two” or maybe “too”. He gave me an expectant look, thinking I would finish his sentence. In this respect, we are not soul mates. Any guesses? It is really obvious. Not to me, of course.

The answer was “too long”. So what do you reckon? Yep, potential couple’s song popped straight into my head.

Let’s have a listen to it. It is Loving You Too Long, written by Jerry Butler and Otis Redding, and performed by Etta James. If you are partial to lounge room karaoke, I invite you to sing this song off key while your partner has a Zoom meeting. No, I didn’t do that, but I could ….

I think I may have stuck the “too long” response now. Not sure how long we’ve been married though.

In other news, I’ve password protected my posts on my latest mosaic project to protect my copyright. Regular readers that missed out on seeing it, can drop me a line and I will let you know the password. I want to make a T-shirt of the image for my niece. A chance chat with her led to the idea for the project. Back to the T-shirt. It turns out that making one from my own original artwork is more complicated than I anticipated. I have some learning to do.

One last thing, a couple of people pointed out to me that the plural of octopus is octopuses, not octopi, as I wrote in my last post. Fancy that! You can’t trust Google.

Take care, everyone, and thanks for your spelling help.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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Christmas Tale

The year that my sister, brother and I had our last Christmas together with our father, was probably the same year that my father bought a jet ski and a schmick new wetsuit to affirm his mid-life experiment. In keeping with the new purchases, he also rented a holiday house at the south coast over the Christmas/New Year holiday period. It was our first ever trip to, and holiday at, the south coast. Summer holidays at the coast are a Canberra tradition that was normally beyond our means. My father also paid for my brother and sister to fly down from Queensland for the festivities, the offer to pay the airfares alone being insufficient to bribe them to make the trip south.

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Festive Cheer, Or Not

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day and general ramble, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.

I don’t really feel like Friday song day today. My well of songs is drying up. I realise that is a cop out because it is not all about me. Every now and then we all feel obligated to put on our happy face. Many people struggle with their mental health and for them, Christmas and other national festive occasions, can be particularly challenging. If you can see that your loved one is struggling, ask them what they need. It may not be the stress of a big family get-together. Sometimes a chat or a warm/cool beverage and a familiar face may be more than enough.

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A Time For Everything

Welcome to my regular (and early) Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. Today, I am going to get nostalgic.

I can’t remember a time when the house wasn’t dilapidated. The house sat upon tall timber pylons three storeys high, but there was nothing underneath it. The story goes that there were plans for a shop below the house but those plans never came to fruition. To the passerby, it might have looked like a giant birdhouse. This was fitting because two older ladies lived in that house. The younger was my grandmother, the elder was her mother, my great grandmother. My grandfather lived up the road. That was odd, but odd is normal for us.

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I Guess We Have To Try

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.

There are no winners in this pandemic. Today I would like all of us to spare a thought for our friends with loved ones who are currently undergoing medical treatment for life-threatening illnesses. Now just imagine that you couldn’t be with your loved one in hospital due to Covid visitor restrictions. Next, imagine that hospitals and emergency services are so overwhelmed with Covid patients that medical treatment cannot be provided in a timely fashion for all those in need. That would be unbelievably traumatic. It’s happening. My heart goes out to anyone in that situation.

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