Life in Middle Girth

Mood: Slightly grumpy
Listening to: Some crap on tv in background

Hi,

Surely it's not too much to ask for my kids to do the goddamned dishes? But no, they won't do them.

It was Brent's first day back at work today, and I was at my work too....got home at 5.30 to find Brent and his sister having a cuppa so instead of getting tea on the go I joined them, which meant tea got later....I'd planned on doing a fish pie but everyone pulled faces at that so I crumbed and fried most of it and experimented with a little of it, chopping up a bit of snapper, some marlin, onions, parsley, egg, flour and turning it into fritter things. They ate it. I loaded the dishwasher and set it going, made a cup of tea and did my newspaper typing, it's now ten o'clock and in spite of me asking and asking and asking the bloody dishes are still sitting where I left them after cooking tea. Jeez it annoys me and ps the husband off. Lazy little shits.

Well now, an update on the husband. Yesterday we visited the oncologist who gave us the glad tidings that there didn't appear to be any secondaries, certainly none showed on the scan. Hooray!! some good news at last. I was almost too scared to contemplate good news because we've had a few kicks lately.  That's the good bit, the not so good bit is that Brent now has to undergo 30 weeks of chemo, being weekly injections administered at the cancer clinic in PN. Hopefully he will get onto a trial programme which involves a mixture of drugs and gives a slightly better prognosis than the ordinary chemo, but if not it is the other programme, 5Fu I think it's called. Apparently it's not the the absolutely horrendous stuff that lays you out for a week a month and makes all your hair fall out (thank goodness, he may not have much on top but there's heaps on his body!); he should be able to continue working throughout and even play sport but will feel more tired than usual. All this will begin sometime in mid-October, after he's recovered more from his operation. And that recovery has been truly marvellous - as yesterday's man said, why bother with a knife when you can use a telescope?  So we're feeling quite a lot happier this week. Unfortunately the hubby has hatched another cold and is cough-cough-coughing, not too good for his tummy.

Today was a funeral day. Peter Brock, the King of Tonga, and Dave D..... here in our town. He - Dave - had a very noteable funereal procession of Harley Davidsons preceeded by him in a gleaming black coffin on the back of an impeccable shiny old Holden Kingswood ute - Gemma, his daughter, rode on the back of the first Harley and looked so little and alone. Her older sister committed suicide ten years ago under the Bulls Bridge on her 15th birthday, then her mum and dad split up and her mum moved down south; recently Gemma has had a little boy of her own. She's 21, four days older than our daughter. It was in the maternity home that we met and the girls went through kindy, primary school and intermediate together. Dave dropped dead from a heart attack. He was only 47.

After about two years of not keeping up the family communications with the various cousins round the country, not even doing Christmas cards, I've started writing letters again. With pen and ink not on the computer so while they may be pleased to hear from me (or not!) they may have trouble reading my scrawl. It did feel good to be getting in touch again though. And I got a phone call from one cuz at the weekend though I haven't heard from the other one yet. Mind you she might still be investing her millions - it was the Lotto one! It is nice receiving mail that ain't bills.

Tired, grumpier because its now even later and no kids doing dishes. To bed, to bed.

Jaybee