I caught fire in the kitchen

blue flame on gas hot plateSo I’m a kitchen disaster. It’s not my fault that my kitchen hates me!  Some old crone must have cursed it. If the old adage is true that you can win a man’s heart through his stomach – mine would have run for the hills years ago, or be dead by now. Which would have saved him from the next few decades of culinary mayhem.

I’ve cooked a sausage casserole that looked so X-rated that my boys refused to eat it, and when I posted the photo of it on social media, Facebook reminded me not topromote sexual enhancement products as it was against their policy.  I’ve cooked a lemon meringue pie that tasted like ear wax, gingerbread men that my children spat over the back fence to the neighbour’s dog which fed the mutt for years, and steaks that damaged teeth and fattened up the dentist’s wallet!  And that’s just to name a few.

Unfortunately I’ve also started two fires in my home. I wish I could say I haven’t caused psychological and emotional fear in my husband and boys {sigh}, but that would be a lie.

The first fire I started was when making a cup of tea for my husband with our new kettle that sat on the gas hotplates. The water had boiled and the kettle was whistling away its new tune.  I reached over to pick up the kettle – but didn’t turn the flame off.  My not-so-sexy too-big flannelette pyjamas had dangly sleeves that touched the flame.  I watched a pretty blue flame jump onto my arm and I was hypnotically mesmerised as I stared at the flame running up the length of my sleeve to my shoulder. Then I realised I was on fire! I screamed and Husband came running into the kitchen.  I did the “drop and roll” manoeuvre in an attempt to put myself out.

He found me horizontal on the cold tiled floor, thrashing around, flapping my hands all over my body. He couldn’t see the flames, just heard me screaming that I was on fire!   He just stood there, wondering what the hell I was doing with a perplexed eyebrow look.  He thought I was doing some sort of german-zombie slap-dance. “Why didn’t you help me” I squawked?  He was stunned silent.  Obviously I impressed him with my Australia’s-Got-Talent kitchen performance.

I put myself out and noticed that my floral pyjamas had brown patches up the sleeve where the fire had caught.

Husband looked at me and just rolled his boggle eyes.

The 2nd fire was because I didn’t know I was supposed to pierce sausage skins before I cooked them. (Oh no, bleedin’ sausages again – no wonder he’s banned me for life from ever cooking them.) Anyway, I put sausages under our grill and turned it onto high.  Part way through the cook I could hear a “whooshing” and “sizzling” sound, so I bent and peeked inside the grill.  It was so pretty!  My sausages were bulging as they heated up, they swelled and then the top burst like a balloon and an arrow of fat squirted straight up onto the electric elements.  I kept watching – then the fat caught on fire! Oh hell – the grill was on fire! I screamed, and Husband ran in and saved the day.

Husband looked at me, didn’t say a word, and rolled his eyes. Again.  If he rolls his barney-googles at me one more time I will poke the bloody brown orbs out with an ice-pick!

At least the house didn’t burn down. He could have at least been grateful for that small miracle.

© 2015 CEW

When heroes have to be rescued by heroes

A superheroA true story about two brothers and their idiotic plan to attract girls … 

Two young men (brothers – and NOT my sons!) were on the beach, conspiring about how to attract girls.  They came up with a plan; an allegedly brilliant and fool-proof scene they would enact, that would have the young women flocking to them.  I will call these brothers M and B.

The plan:  B was going to swim out quite far and pretend to get into difficulties.  He would call out to his older brother, M, to help him.  Both of them would be quite loud to attract the attention of the girls around them, and when they had an audience, M would power-swim out, save his brother and drag him back to shore.  Who could resist a real hero?  The rest would be history, as they say.

How the scene “actually” played out:

B swam out into the beautiful sparkling azure waters of the bay; and when he thought he was far enough away from the shore, turned and called out to his brother for help.  M made a point of calling back and said he would be there soon.  When M noticed some of the bikini-clad girls watching, like a superhero’s call to action he puffed out his bronzed Mediterranean chest, jogged into the water and dived into an oncoming wave.  Unfortunately, M wasn’t very coordinated.  When he saw the wave, he attempted to dive under it (like he envisioned), but instead belly-flopped onto the top of the wave.  He began his “power-swim” slightly winded.

As M was free-styling out, he had no idea that his uncoordination meant he didn’t quite “look” the part.  Most free-stylers can coordinate their arm strokes and breathing.  M couldn’t.  So he had to free-style towards B with his head flicking from side to side as he breathed above the water.  His mop of pitch-black hair spun from side to side and looked like a long haired dog shaking itself after a drenching.  After a few more awkward strokes, M began cursing in his head that his “bloody brother” had swum out too far!

B was watching his brother’s head swivel from side to side, water particles spraying wildly.  And his not so graceful freestyle-arms were not gliding through the water at all like they were supposed to, but were now splashing through the water, causing him to look like an uncoordinated imbecile.  B was cursing under his breath now, because he was getting bloomin’ well tired of treading water.  How much longer would he have to wait for his idiot brother to get there?

M exhausted himself before he got to his brother.  He was only at the half way point when he realised he was starting to take mouthfuls of water in; and as much as his short Maltese legs were kicking at a hundred miles an hour under the water like duck’s paddles, he seemed NOT to be getting closer to B.

B was in real difficulty now too.  Bloody M wasn’t going to make it at all!

The girls on the shore were now pointing at them both and yelling something as the crisis began to unfold.

Luckily for the brothers, there were “real” life guards on the shore.  Within minutes, both M and B were rescued by the real heroes, and as they say, the rest is history.

 © 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

 

Dodge a regret and say the words

A great post from “dfolstad58” and a reminder to tell someone you love them before it’s too late. I Reblogged this post because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

Life and Random Thinking

I had had a non event day, nothing memorable, until I got the news.

eyeball,black and whiteA close friend had gone down to the inlet to swim in the ocean I knew and on the evening news the radio announced a drowning at that beach.

Dread gripped my heart, and I tried to phone and confirm if it was my friend, Mark.  I left messages, and my heart felt dry like paper.

Hours passed and I started to realize all the conversations I still wanted to have with him, especially one conversation where I told him he was like a younger brother to me, and I really liked to spend time with him, and that I loved him.

I felt real regret that I had never had that conversation.

Then the phone rang, it was him, and he was fine. Relief washed over me like a wave as I took a deep breath…

View original post 127 more words

My first big, bold and beautiful tattoo!

beautiful tattoo of rose and clock

I did it!  MY FIRST TATTOO

Big, bold and utterly beautiful … I love it!

What it means to me …

  • The clock represents time … the most beautiful “times” in my life, when my two sons were born
  • There are 4 hands, representing the times my boys were born, 4.32 and 11.40
  • The one red rose represents one family, and “Love”
  • I have my sons names tattooed on each side of the clock {which I Photoshopped out to protect them, as they would hate me broadcasting their names on my blog}

Did it hurt?  Oh yeah, it hurt like hell

Would I do it again?  You betcha

Where’s my husband’s name?  Well, if he ever trades me in for a younger model I don’t want his name on me!  Okay, I will get his name somewhere … soon

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?

© 2015 CEW

 

When you see a ghost in your photo …

Family Christmas dinner with ghost in backgroundGhosts, spirits and the supernatural have fascinated me for years.  I grew up with a psychic Dad; and stories about his dreams coming true and “knowing” the future were my norm.  As I grew up it became common knowledge in my family that I took after my Dad.  Yes – it seemed I could foresee the future also.

A few years back I took my sons on a ghost tour in Ballarat (an old town in Melbourne), and since then, the boys have been captivated by ghost stories.  Son 2 even took his girlfriend for night visits to closed down lunatic asylums in Melbourne, but they were too scared to venture inside.  One particular night they heard a loud bang and ran for their lives.  They never went back.  It prompted me to tell them about the ghost who came to Christmas when their Dad and I were younger.

When I told them we had a photo of the ghost somewhere, they insisted I go find it.   I dug it out of an old archived box of forgotten memories, and told them the story in a quiet spo00oky voice.

close up of ghostIt was 1983.  I was having Christmas dinner at my boyfriend’s (now their Dad’s) house.  The dining room  window looked out onto an above ground swimming pool in the back yard.  There was a flat lilo floating in the pool.  When we had the photos developed we discovered what appeared to be a “ghost” laying on the lilo, looking at us through the window.  We had the photo checked by people at the photo shop and there was no problem with the developing of the image.  You will notice that the ghost has a reflection in the water and the curtain is in front of the ghost, showing that the apparition was most definitely in the back yard.  You can certainly see that it was in the swimming pool – on the lilo.  The ghost is pure white with tonal differences where his facial features are.

It is quite an amazing photo and it has generated much discussion over the years.  The boys still bring it out to show their friends, and some of them have been quite creeped-out by it.

We always get asked about the history of the house, which we are not sure about.  My husband’s family didn’t build the house and we don’t know if anyone died there.  The swimming pool was new and nobody had drowned in it.  So, we don’t know who the ghost may be, or why he came to Christmas that day.

Around this time we did have a strange night in the house.  I was sleeping over and I heard a tinkling noise in the middle of the night, but I fell straight back to sleep.  When I awoke in the morning I saw that the glass lamp-shade was not on the lamp.  It was on the other side of the bedside table directly over a small jewellery box.  I had no idea how the lamp-shade lifted into the air without breaking the globe to then move across and lower over a jewellery box.

I believe it was our Christmas ghost letting us know that he was still there.

To this day the ghost remains a mystery.

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

VELOCITY

Beautiful words from a truly gifted poet! Simply amazing.
I reblogged this poem because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

The Falling Thoughts

There are marks on my heart that I couldn’t show

My eyes are closed, but I’m still watching the show

I am sitting in the train and looking through the window

My surroundings are fast and my life is slow

They are talking loud but their self esteem is low

They look like adults but they still need to grow

A person who knows, will never say I know

People with little knowledge always sit in the first row

Life forces us to see what we don’t want to see

Slowly slowly we lose our shine and glow

One day we will become tired to kill our desire

It’s hard to pretend to others that you don’t know

People emphasize to go with the flow

To rebel against yourself  is your biggest  foe

When you are out of my reach I feel helpless

My heart stops beating and my blood…

View original post 28 more words

What do Aussies really think of Halloween?

pumpkin with glowing eyesDo you really want to know what most Australians think of Halloween?  OK, you asked for it!  We think it’s … stupid!

Maybe it’s because we just do not understand it. Most of my Blog Followers are from the USA and Canada, so I apologise up front if I’ve offended you.  Here’s your opportunity to sock it to me – and educate me.

I am always prepared at home on Halloween night though. But not with candy.  Not with decorations.  Not with a skeleton sitting on my veranda in an old rickety rocking chair.  Not with fake cobwebs strewn over the front door.  Oh nooooo.

I prepare myself like this:-

I speed up the driveway and park in the garage, running to close the garage door in a weird running-crouchy position before any of the little witches and ghosts walking up the street see me.

In my home I shut all of my curtains and blinds. I turn the TV down so the house seems silent.  I tell the boys “If anyone knocks on the door, DON’T ANSWER IT! I’m pretending we’re not home.”

When Husband arrives home I usher him into the house and warn him with angry wife eyes “don’t make a sound!”

Are you getting the picture?  I’m like Ray Romano when his parents come to visit in “There’s something about Raymond”.  {Love that show!}

I don’t understand how …

We tell our kids never to speak to strangers or “accept lollies off strangers” – paedophile alert and all. So why is it ok for them to knock on strangers doors and get treats from them at Halloween?  I’d be terrified with terrorism that it’s a perfect way to attack Westerners – by handing out poisoned sweets.

Nope – not for me.

So last night was Halloween, and I ignored every knock at the door – the whole 3 of them! I guess it really was a “trick” to those trick and treaters.

So my answer to the little goblin’s question of “Trick or Treat” is this … “TRICK” … as I really was home!  Mwa  Mwa Mwaaaaaaaaaa {evil laugh}

*******************

© 2015 CEW

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When you eat chocolate, but it’s really poo …

Plate full of delicious chocolatesChocolate and poo are on opposite ends of the gourmet spectrum {even though one turns into the other … eventually!}  I know this is a topic that may turn your stomach, but some stories just must be told!  And I should thank my husband, at this point, for being the best “blog material” around.

He has been known to “steal” chocolate from our children; and they have grown up with the knowledge that if their Dad can see it, it’s fair game.  So, they now hide all chocolate from him.  He even sleep-walks to the fridge and eats chocolate when he’s unconscious.  Truly!  {My post “I married a scary sleepwalking zombiewill enlighten you about his night-time antics!}

But one Easter, Karma paid a visit to the big chocolate thief.

Our son was a toddler at the time and was walking around the house eating his nice tasty Easter Egg, dropping much of it and leaving chocolate bits across the floor.  A bit like “Hansel and Gretel” leaving a track of bread crumbs to follow.  Like a starved sniffer-dog his Daddy was following him eating the chocolate trail.  But son didn’t just drop chocolate bits.  Unbeknownst to his Dad, a little poo land-mine escaped from his pants and landed amongst the chocolate pebbles.

I watched as my husband’s eyes bulged and his salivating tongue lolled out when he honed in on the largest brown nugget yet.  Like a seagull on a hot chip he swooped in and threw the brown morsel into his mouth, moaning with desire as he began to munch it and swoosh it around his teeth.  He froze.  Silence.  His face turned to one of horror as he leapt towards the kitchen sink, bent forward and began barfing into the bowl.  I ran to him, eyes watering, as I smelt a puff of his poo-breath when he screamed “THAT’S NOT CHOCOLATE!”  Oh, how we reap the seeds we sow.

Lesson:  “Just because it looks like chocolate … doesn’t mean it is!”

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

Image courtesy of stockvault-chocolate138839

 

 

Shocked by the call girl who rang me

Lips with bright red lipstickThere’s one thing a woman never wants to hear when she picks up the phone …

“Hello, I’m Jenny and I work for an escort agency. I’m sorry to ring you but I need to speak to you about a call I received from your phone number last week.”

I was speechless. I had no idea how to respond, so I just said really slowly “Okay.”

I withdrew into my bedroom and shut the door so my children wouldn’t hear the call. Then she told me the news.

She received a couple of calls from my phone the previous week asking the prices of certain services. She said she is a mother too, and when she realised it was a “little boy” on the phone, and there was another one in the background giggling, she decided to let me know. Lucky for me, our phone number was displayed on her system.

She finished by saying “I just thought you might like to know.” Bless her little cotton socks – I wanted to know alright! I’ve never met a call girl or escort or prostitute or brothel worker, and I was so very, very grateful that she cared enough to ring me. She sounded absolutely lovely on the phone. I couldn’t thank her enough.

Now it was time to deal with those two rascals of mine.

I called the boys together and sat them down, and told them about the call I’d just received from the nice lady on the phone. They both confessed and said they were just joking and promised they’d never do it again.

However, Son 2 tried to win some brownie points and show how intelligent they were and said:-

“Don’t worry Mum, we didn’t use our phone. We used your work phone!”

WHAT???? They used a Government phone! To ring an escort agency! And now there was a record of it!

I was shame-faced as I reported my boys’ actions to the CEO of the Government Department I was working for at the time. He couldn’t help but bellow with laughter – because he has sons – and knows all too well the antics they are capable of.

Disaster averted.

© 2015 CEW

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