The story of the sad woman

Once upon a time there was a woman. The Sad Woman.

Although the Sad Woman would not say she had had a hard life, she had had to overcome many obstacles in her life, many of which were hard in themselves. And because of these obstacles she had been filled in the past with a great sadness that battled within her and occasionally broke through her walls and surrounded her.

It was not all hard and sad however. The Sad Woman's life was also filled with love and happiness. She met the Wonderful Husband and they fell in love. She had many friends, some of which were so close that they were closer than family. And at times, the Sad Woman was happy.

There came one day into the Sad Woman's life a Special Person, who was a wonderful friend and they shared many hobbies and did many things together. But one day, the Special Person did something that hurt the Sad Woman deeply. The Sad Woman tried very hard to be understanding as she had been in a similar situation and wanted very much to be there for them. But the Special Person was very much caught up in their own world and did not care how much they were hurting the Sad Woman.

The Sad Woman tried very hard to contain her feelings. She told the Special Person just how much they were hurting her but although the Special Person was sorry that they were hurting her, they would not detour from the path they had chosen. So she spoke with her close friends but many were far away and although they were wonderful and understanding, small comfort could be gained. She tried her best to hide her pain from the Wonderful Husband because she knew that he would worry and hurt if he knew and she did not want that.

One day, the Sad Woman was at a hardware store and as she stood in a certain aisle, she knew what she would do. Very calmly, almost as if someone else was doing it, she purchased a set of new blades, intended for a Stanley knife. She took them home and put them in a drawer and there they stayed for several days.

And then came the day of reckoning and the Special Person went down the path they had chosen. On the inside the feelings built up, the hurt, anger, betrayal and grief until they were too much to stay inside. The Sad Woman could physically feel the pain; it hurt deep inside, made her short of breath, made her feel sick.

And so she sat on her bed, and took out the blades and looked down at her pale flesh. And without hesitation she sliced at her thighs.
The blades were sharp and true and the Sad Woman was amazed at how easy it was. She cut again and again, each time as easy as the last. And the blood came and the pain and the release. The Sad Woman felt the sting of the cuts and the throbbing pain in the hours afterwards and for a little while, it made the other pain she was feeling disappear. For this was a pain that no one else had caused, except herself. The Sad Woman would not have to wait in dread to feel the next blow delivered, she would know exactly when the pain would come and how much there would be.

And so she continued. But she did not want the Wonderful Husband to know what she had done, because although it helped ease the pain, the Sad Woman was also ashamed. She knew that the Wonderful Husband would not understand and it would hurt him and that made her terribly ashamed. And so she cut herself on different parts of her body so he would not get suspicious. Her thighs, her upper arms, her forearms and her ankles. Some he noticed and she lied boldly, telling him that a dog had scratched her or a rose thorn had snagged her. Others he noticed not at all, even the cuts to her ankle that bled for days and needed butterfly clips to stop the flow.

The pain inside would not go away though, no matter how much the Sad Woman cut herself. And so one day she realised that she needed some help. She called the doctor and made an appointment for the following day so she could get some antidepressants. And when the Wonderful Husband came home, she told him what she was doing. Although he didn't know about the cutting, he had seen that the Sad Woman was sadder than usual and so he agreed it was a good idea.

But later that night as they were lying in bed, the Wonderful Husband saw the cuts on the Sad Woman's upper arm and when he asked how these ones had happened, she couldn't lie anymore. And so she broke down and told him that there had been no dog, and no rose thorn, only herself and a blade. And the Wonderful Husband was sad and confused but also understanding and non-judgmental. He told the Sad Woman that she needed more than just pills to make her better and pleaded with her to go back and see her psychologist again. And the Sad Woman didn't want to because she was so scared that she would be locked up. But the Wonderful Husband begged and she could not stand to see him hurting, like she was hurting. And so she agreed.

And now it is today and the appointment is this afternoon. And the Sad Woman is scared.

Making sense of scents

I'd like to think I'm just a typical woman.

Sure, maybe there's a strong tomboy streak in me, I have none of the social etiquettes befitting a proper lady and I have yet to get a grasp on that pesky line, but deep down, I'm just as girly as the next girl. There's something that feels right about painting my nails unnatural colours, I like pretty things, if I didn't have gargantuan German feet, I would most likely have a hundred pairs of dainty shoes and I love perfume.

One of the best parts about being a little girl was when your Mum would give you her perfume bottle with the last few drops left in it. Back in those days, chemists and posh department stores would hand out little tester bottles of scent that would grow into a clinking pile on my dresser. I loved having something so grown up and it didn't take long before I discovered my own unique taste in scent.

Overall I love floral scents but every now and then something a little spicy. My mother wore Tabu for years. It was the only one she would wear. Some years ago now, she changed to a different perfume (how bad is it of me that I can't remember which one?). I'm a little more flighty when it comes to perfumes though. I couldn't imagine wearing the one scent for years at a time. I have a chest of drawers in my bathroom and the top drawer is absolutely stuffed with glass bottles and aerosol cans. My taste in perfume changes with my moods or the weather. And I have always been fond of scents that come both as a perfume and in a spray. I use the perfume after my shower and then take the spray with me to refresh during the day. If I can't get a spray, I make sure I have a bottle that is small enough to take in a handbag.

Also, one thing that defines my taste in perfume overall is that I don't go for the expensive stuff. It's not that I'm a cheap skate, it's just that I have never found an expensive perfume that I've liked well enough to buy. I find that cheaper perfumes smell just as nice and since they're cheap, I can afford to have a dozen or so of them so I can chop and change my mind as often as I like.

And so, here are my favourites :)

Urban Rituelle Cheery Blossom, Lychee Berry and Rosehip. I bought this first from a little fairy shop and then when they no longer stocked it, from online. It's not showing up on their website anymore so I'm guessing they no longer make it :(
This is my ultimate summer scent, so so pretty, I just wish the webbernet came with a scratch and sniff component!

So...? The original one, sometimes called So...? Red. One of the first perfumes I tried that spoke to me and told me we'd be together forever. This one I'll wear at any time but it has a very much 'going out at night' feel to it so I do wear it if we're going somewhere special.

Avon Imari. This, as well as the So...? is one of my usual suspects. If I'm not feeling in a particular mood, I'll wear this as an everyday perfume. I love that it's slightly spicy and oriental but also still very floral. I first got this when I was working as a relief manager at KFC and I remember the first day I was wearing it. Whenever I smell Imari I always have a momentary flashback to KFC Ascot.

White Satin. This was my sister's favourite perfume and I fell in love with it. Very feminine and girly, just gorgeous. The only issue I've ever had with it is that I have so many tiny bottles of it, I don't bother buying the spray, but just take one of the bottles with me in my bag. I cannot count the number of times they have leaked through my bag. My bad though. You'd think after the fifth time I would have learned my lesson...

The Body Shop Vanilla Oil. By far, my favourite scent of all. Like the White Satin, introduced to me by my older sister. I guess she had two years on me and used that time well to make some fine fragrance discoveries. The bottle of oil is tiny and compact so I always have one in my bag. I took this with me the first time I went to Edinburgh and now, whenever I wear it, I always have very vivid memories of my time there.
The only perfume Christian has ever bought me. He has trouble smelling anything (his nose was broken when he was a child, long story) but this one, he can faintly smell and likes.
I am wearing this one now.

My drawer is full of many other fragrances as well, these are just my favourites. I have bought bottles of perfume in the past when they were on sale and I liked them well enough but apart from once or twice, I have not worn them again. One day I'll go through and clean out the drawer and my nieces will have a field day.

Pity and poets

It's been a bit of an eventful week and not in a good way I fear.
I ended up with tonsillitis. Again. I seem to get it at least once or twice a year. Which isn't that bad when you compare me to my niece Chiara, who comes down with it on average two weeks after her last course of antibiotics has finished. She almost always has it. So I really can't complain too much but still, it's kind of annoying.

I'm assuming everyone has suffered from tonsillitis before but just in case you haven't, I can tell you it's awful. Apart from the whole 'my throat is on fire and it hurts to swallow/talk/sneeze/breathe' aspect, there's also the lovely combination of fever, utter exhaustion and just general feeling like crapness. Yesterday I went from being so cold (on a 32C day) that I had to soak in a hot bath to getting all hot and sweaty late in the afternoon back to being so cold again that I dressed in my winter flannel jarmies.
Today I have managed the strenuous tasks of having a shower and going to the shop for more Panadol and now I feel like just napping away the entire day.

Unfortunately I can't do that.

For those of you who have Facebook, you'll be aware that my poor little Miss Molly had her own eventful day yesterday at the vet. She had to go and have her teeth cleaned and they were so bad (because her neglectful parents never thought to take her to the doggie dentist before) that she ended up having eight teeth removed. I know, eight! I actually asked the vet if she had any left over. After one of the teeth was removed, they found a suspicious lump in her gum which also had to be removed. Once we recover from this vet bill (almost $800) we can opt to have the lump sent off for testing to see if it's harmless or cancerous.

The surgery went rather well but since she's an old dame now her recovery time has been a little slow. When she was carried out to me, I thought my heart would break. She looked so dejected and miserable (and if I'm honest, downright stoned) that I felt a right cow for putting her through this. She perked up quite well once we got home but she's been very sooky, doesn't want to leave my sight and she's very jumpy. Every time I drop something or make any kind of noise, she jumps a mile and runs and hides under the bed.

To make matters even worse, just before my doctor's appointment yesterday I got a message from Christian saying he was going to have to fly to Melbourne overnight for work. Molly and I were going to have to fend for ourselves it would seem. And considering my poor darling has no opposable thumbs, doesn't even realise that I'm sick and is generally just a dog, the nursing was left entirely up to me. I had to suck it up.
Christian caught an 11pm flight last night, spent only 6 hours in Melbourne and has just gotten back on the plane, which will arrive here at half past one this arvo. He told me he's exhausted and didn't get any sleep on the plane at all. So when he gets home today, he'll be just as tired and grumpy and sorry for himself as Molly and I are.

I promised myself I wouldn't spend this entire post in a self pitying manner and so I shall move on to a more cheerful topic.

William McGonagall.

I first learned of the worst poet in the world from Boo when she posted on her blog and since then, I have been a fan. When we went to visit her last year, we took great joy in torturing Christian with readings of his poems. I even secretly signed Christian up for a 'gem a day' email, which he hastily canceled before speaking to a divorce lawyer.

What bought Mr McGonagall to the forefront of my thoughts today (surprisingly enough I can go days without even thinking about him or his poems!) was a status update from a guy on FB. I haven't met him IRL but he is friends with Mouse and Boo and so it wasn't long before we friended each other on FB. His status was this little snippet

'Upon yonder hill there stands a coo
I've just had a look
It's no there noo!'

I made the comment that it sounded vaguely McGonagall-ish and then figured I'd look it up and see. According to this page, because it's bad poetry and it's Scottish a lot of people think McGonagall wrote it but if you really think about it, you'd see that he clearly didn't.
If you're like me and half the time don't bother with links on blogs and whatnot, I'll copy and paste their reasoning here:

'It scans (more-or-less).
It appears to be deliberately comic (however unsuccessfully).
It's written in Scots vernacular, which McGonagall rarely did.
There's no mention of a date, or of an early death!'

The best part about this little discovery however is that they don't just leave it at that but then go on to say that if McGonagall had written the poem, it would probably be something like this:

'Upon the hill there stood a cow
But upon recent viewing I can say that it is not there now
For it died, most unexpectedly, of BSE
On the 29th day of September 1893.'

That just made me laugh and laugh and then go 'Ow, ow, it hurts, it hurts'.

I think however that this is one of my favourite of his poems, mainly because he's pissed that people don't like his poems so he seems to think that the best way to get revenge is to leave Dundee lol

A New Year's Resolution to Leave Dundee.

Welcome! thrice welcome! to the year 1893,
For it is the year I intend to leave Dundee,
Owing to the treatment I receive,
Which does my heart sadly grieve.
Every morning when I go out
The ignorant rabble they do shout
'There goes Mad McGonagall'
In derisive shouts as loud as they can bawl,
And lifts stones and snowballs, throws them at me;
And such actions are shameful to be heard in the city of Dundee.
And I'm ashamed, kind Christians, to confess
That from the Magistrates I can get no redress.
Therefore I have made up my mind in the year of 1893
To leave the ancient City of Dundee,
Because the citizens and me cannot agree.
The reason why? -- because they disrespect me,
Which makes me feel rather discontent.
Therefore to leave them I am bent;
And I will make my arrangements without delay,
And leave Dundee some early day.

Edinburgh photos!

So it's only seven months late...but I finally got around to posting some of my favourite photos from my trip to wee bonny Scotland last year!

I actually have a good reason for it taking me so long too! Usually I upload all my pics to my own computer and then do blog posts etc from there. However, at that point my computer had decided it wasn't going to play well with others and I had upload my photos onto the HTPC in the lounge room and to do a post from there I have to sit on the floor and it's uncomfortable and my butt hurts but I am doing that right now for you people and my bum is hurting so stop your bloody whinging that this post is seven months late already!!!

*phew* Ok, now that that's out of my system, here we go!

This is our room. It will forever be our room. No one else can claim it. No one!

The ever lovely Arthur's Seat.

We are all laughing. Why? Because this dog's name is Bum. Oh yes, you heard me. Bum the dog.

Wait a second! I'm sure there was a castle here somewhere...where the heck could it have gone???


If this sign says it is so, then it must be so!

Sunshine and lollypops! Wait a minute, we didn't have lollypops...awwww :(

Our camping adventure begins!
Christian in a tree. Don't ask.

Who's in the bag? Are they wearing glasses? And a beanie? And are cold and wet? Is it Flora and Nettie? It is? Yay! I win!

Hush, the White Rabbit is sleeping!

Squirrels! Red ones at that! And a squirrel sized hat factory!

Do you think they would honour this?

I love wolfies :D

'Alice?'
'Yes dear Roger?'
'Don't look now, but there's something on the bench with us...'
'Oh dear Roger, should I get out the bug spray?'
'No Alice, I'm sure they'll scurry off soon.'
Play time!

Cawdor Castle. The crappest castle in the world. Seriously. They don't even make hats!

Horsey!


Pixie house.
Curses woman! I don't want my photo taken but I seem to be trapped in this giant web. I shall use my only defense against the likes of you...my cold, steely glare!
All dressed up, let's rock this baby naming ceremony!
Inappropriate canon behaviour. I'll just let the photos speak for themselves, shall I?

Fear him...I bloody do!
Follow the white rabbit.
And you will discover something veeeeeery interesting about Nettie...
I love this photo.

Up above the world so high...

Like a wacky Brady Bunch.
Eeep! It's a highland coo!
Don't look now but there's a furry white nose growing out of my ear!

At the zoo. According to Christian, this is apparently a wolverine. Honestly, just because he can tell the difference between a polar bear and a rock, doesn't mean he can see wolverines!

Evil King Zeph!No! Don't jump!

Boo!

To complain or not to complain...

Or to return a product or not. To make a fuss or not?

I am one of these people who just cannot stand being rude, confrontational or the teeniest bit assertive. I am logical enough to see that being assertive doesn't necessarily mean being rude but to some extent it's always confrontational. It might not be violent or angry but if you pull someone up on a small mistake (however nicely you do it), there's always going to be an undercurrent of confrontation.

I however take things to extreme. My brain just doesn't work like most people's do. Returning something to the store because it's faulty makes me so uncomfortable because I fear I will be perceived as rude/annoying/arrogant/confronting.
I've been on the other end of the returns counter and in most cases I've never felt that way about the customer who is returning the item (unless they're being an asshat about the whole thing). If anything, I'm extremely apologetic and feel awful that they've been so inconvenienced. But once I'm the one returning the product I just can't do it.

It's so bad that it's a running joke in my family now.

Here are some examples of when I should have returned something or complained or spoken up and I have not. These have all occurred in the past couple of weeks.

* I bought some pre-grated cheese and it was mouldy. I threw it out and went and bought some more.

* I bought a 2L bottle of diet coke. When I opened it, I discovered the seal had been broken and the coke was flat. I poured it down the sink.

* The other night my mum took us all out for dinner and my meal didn't arrive. Everyone else was already almost finished but I didn't say a word. My mother noticed and called over the waiter to ask what had happened to my meal. He apologised, explained it had accidentally been forgotten about and he would be right back with it. I was silent the entire time, beet red and squirming from embarrassment in my chair.

* I went to Ikea the other day and wanted to try one of their Daim cakes. I left their 'market' store only to discover I had bought the wrong kind of cake. The friend I was with told me to go back and just swap it over but I wouldn't, I just said 'No, you can have it'. In the end he went in and bought me the right kind.

*I bought a different brand of cereal the other day, thinking I'd try the home brand since from the packet it looked exactly the same as the branded kind. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever had, it tasted like it had been burnt. Christian had it too and was so annoyed that he actually rang the company to complain. I would have just thrown it out and never bought it again...

And now I have the conundrum that our new toilet seat we got the other day is broken. The thread for the screw is buggered so we can't attach it to our toilet. I've asked Christian to take it back so he can explain why we need a new one but he just gave me a look and told me that I wanted the damn seat so I can take it back and get a new one.
I know that I just won't be able to do it, I'll end up having a panic attack and then leaving it until it's way too late to return in and we'll end up wasting the money we spent on it.
I know it's illogical but unfortunately I did not inherit my father's Vulcan personality so logic be damned!

I may need to use my cunning womanly wiles to convince my dear husband to do this for me. More likely I need to bloody well grow a damn pair and man up.

I'm putting my money on option A...

Attack of the GIANT spider of DOOOOOOOM!*

*No actual attack took place...

Today was an absolutely glorious day! It was only about 27C or so and the sun was out and there was a lovely breeze and so it was the perfect time to go for a walk down through Bassendean (a suburb very near me that sits on the banks of the Swan River).

I parked my car near the main road and headed off in the general direction of the river. There were lots of other people out and about and I would have probably walked right under the GIANT spider of DOOM if not for some cyclists taking photos of him.

He was perched in a tree right about the footpath. Isn't he awesome???


Complete with web and eggs!



I then headed down to Point Reserve, one of the many parks in Basso (I will take this opportunity to say that spell check has an issue with 'Bassendean' but not for 'Basso'...interesting). The entrance to the park has some painted murals depicting native fauna.

The Killer Kookaburra.


The Deadly Dragonfly.


The Bloody Bobtail.


A Fearsome Frog.


So there have recently been lots of floods over East and up North and I have wondered how likely it is that we will ever suffer the same fate. A newspaper article in the local rag I read a couple of weeks ago said that if the Swan did flood, experts expect Bassendean will be one of the worst affected areas.

I wonder how often this has come in handy in the past...?


There were a gaggle of geese frolicking around on the grass. As soon as I got within 20 meters of them, they formed up and started advancing on me, honking furiously.
I'm well aware from reading Footrot Flats that geese can be a (literal) pain in the arse so I high tailed it away from them.


"And don't you come back now!"


This pink and grey was much more sedate.


The river is rather pretty.


Just look how the morning sun shines off it!


Marvel at it's murky browness!


I rather liked this tree so I snapped a pic of it from the end of the jetty (contrary to popular opinion I cannot walk on water).


Finding my thimble sized bladder alarmingly full, I decided to make use of the facilities at Point Reserve. I had never ever before used a chain flush toilet.
I can now strike that from my bucket list.


I want this house! I'm pretty sure this used to be a church of some kind that is now being renovated.


Unless it's just a seriously cool house...


After about an hour I was making my way back to the car and spotted these magpies. Apparently there was good pickings along the wall!

Smorgasbord!


And lastly, for your viewing pleasure - ducks!